That's How I Knew This Story Would Break My Heart
by QueenOfQuiet17
Summary: For as long as she can remember, Karen has kept a diary dedicated to the ones she loved and lost, the ones who left, the ones who broke her heart. She could tell from the start that Grace wasn't like the others. But her history is daunting, and her walls are built high. And she knew that sooner or later, that diary would dictate their story.
1. Prologue: That's How I Knew

" _ **So like a ghost in the snow,  
**_ _ **I'm getting ready to go  
**_ ' _ **Cause baby, that's all I know  
**_ _ **How to open the door  
**_ _ **And though the exit is crude  
**_ _ **It saves me coming unglued  
**_ _ **For when you're not in the mood  
**_ _ **For the gloves and the canvas floor."  
**_ _ **-Aimee Mann, "That's How I Knew This Story Would Break My Heart"**_

 _1999_

At the red light, she looked to the passenger seat and picked up the remnants of the dead. She wished she didn't have it, because she knew that somehow, it stood for the fact that she would be next. But it was in her possession now, given to her by someone whose hope had run out years ago. She could only hold it carefully, protectively, simply out of respect for the ones who eventually left in one way or another, even though she understood that most of them did not deserve it. Because she could not erase history; she could only add to it and hope she didn't repeat it. If only this history didn't leave her wishing she could have done something to change it.

Everyone who came before her now rested in her hands. Karen had told her once in a private moment that her mother tried to instill in her the habit of keeping a diary when she was young. The only problem was that Karen never wanted to waste time on the mundane things that could easily fill the pages of a notebook or a journal. And whenever she did write in it, it was usually about love found, love lost. So it became a graveyard of sorts. Here lies the memory of her first love at thirteen. Over there lies the homecoming queen she fell in love with but couldn't reconcile until she became much older. Moving through the string of one-night stands and names she didn't quite catch. Broken marriages, broken promises, broken hearts. Thoughtful love letters when she was happy; short, concise passages when she wasn't. All in a tightly bound notebook, some loose pages sandwiched between the front cover and the first page.

The light turned green, and Grace drove until she found a place to pull over and put the car in park. The snow was falling steadily now, and for a moment, the redhead marveled at how white it was. Snow in New York could so easily tarnish, taxis speeding by and grinding the dirt of their tires against the purity of nature. Now that she was out of the city, out of the state of New York entirely, she had a chance to take in the beauty that something so simple could possess. But this was not why she was driving. This was not why she frantically raced out of her apartment in search of a woman who likely did not want to be found. She was in Vermont, headed towards the Walkers' cabin because, while Karen liked to think she was spontaneous, Grace had come to know her habits. Grace paid attention. And in a fleeting moment one night, on an overstuffed couch with half a bottle of wine in her system, Karen murmured that it was the cabin she retreated to whenever she wanted to be alone, when she got sick of Manhattan. Karen probably thought that the redhead wasn't listening; not a lot of people did. But Grace listened. Grace heard every word.

If the others didn't listen, maybe she stood some chance of protecting their love after all.

But because she listened, her hope was starting to dwindle too.

 _When I start to feel loved, I pull away. I can't help it. I don't want to. It's just that I've thought I had it so many times, and then it was taken away, or it was never there to begin with and I was deluding myself into thinking it was in my reach. And it's happened too much for me to ever want to chance it again. I don't love Stan; that became apparent over time. Eventually, everything faded away, and I just didn't have the energy to do anything about it._ _Don't tell me you'll love me forever, Grace. Forever doesn't exist. Forever isn't true. You don't know what will happen tomorrow. I just want to soften the blow as much as possible when it comes._

Said in different moments in different inflections, but now everything seemed to form one ominous monologue in Grace's mind. She thought she could be the one to change it all. Because on some level, isn't that what everyone thinks they're capable of when they've fallen in love with someone who has been let down by everyone who came before? But she was swimming against the tide. Karen was starting to pull away recently, and the redhead could see it. And as much as Grace tried, she could not escape this fate; she woke up one morning with Karen nowhere to be found and this notebook on the nightstand.

 _Don't tell me you'll love me forever, Grace._ The first time Karen had said that, Grace gave her a sly smirk and, thinking it was a joke, told her "Okay then…I'll love you today." And when Karen smiled back, there was a hint of hesitation. The redhead never realized that she might have inadvertently made light of something heavy, and as a result, she kept saying it until it became a reflex, until Karen had started saying it too. I love you today. _I love you today, too._

Grace wished that before she went to bed last night, she would have told Karen that she'll love her tomorrow as well. A selfish end, but at least it would have ended the way it began.

Everything had started because Grace had been selfish. Seeing this well put-together—and presumably well to do—woman walk through the door of Grace Adler Designs was certainly unexpected, but inevitably the one thing the redhead didn't even realize she wanted. This woman who had no viable qualities for the position Grace was hiring for, this woman who merely wanted a reason to get out of the house every day. But her contacts were impressive, and she stirred something in Grace that she couldn't recognize and didn't know was there, but wanted it to stay alive. So she did whatever she could to ensure that this woman was a part of her life in some capacity. The night they first kissed was a blur to her now—a blissful, thrilling blur—but although they had only been together for a few months, she couldn't remember a time without the dark haired woman in her arms. And she wanted to keep it that way.

There was never any pretense; they had always been straightforward in their actions. Too many times they had been hoodwinked, betrayed, all because they wore their emotions on their sleeves. Grace had started to harden a bit as a result, but Karen had been solid as a rock for years. So they never beat around the bush; they always went straight for what they wanted, despite Karen's constant remarks of how much Grace reminded her of someone in her past. In a way, it made Karen that much more irresistible to Grace, and their connection wholly addictive.

The redhead could not compare the sheer force of Karen's heart to anything, because she had never experienced anything like it before. Grace didn't know if it was because she was carrying on like this with another woman—something that she had never done, but was never entirely sure she didn't want—or if it was just because until now, she didn't know anyone quite like Karen Walker. That flame torched everything she held to be familiar, leaving Karen standing among the ash and debris. The heat of the fire became comforting, soothing. It became home. And then last night, Karen fell asleep saying those fated words: _I think maybe I need to go away for a little while_. They had said it a couple of times before, when Karen's marriage to Stan became entirely unbearable, or when Grace couldn't stand to be so secretive anymore, but they never left each other behind; they had simply packed a bag for themselves, drove to their little refuge in the woods, and rested in the each other's arms until they felt better. And Grace assumed this time was just like the others.

But in the morning, Karen was gone.

Maybe the drawing should have been the red flag. A couple of days ago, out of sheer boredom and a slow work day, Grace found herself doodling an image of Karen as she saw her in bed, a look she had committed to memory over the few times Karen was able to escape Park Avenue for an extended stay, watching as Grace started getting ready for the day. She sketched her love lying on white sheets that had covered her in certain places, careful to catch the beauty of her curves, her eyes, the way her hair was slightly tousled from tossing and turning in bed the night before. Grace sketched the tattoos Karen told no one about: just under her ribcage, a cursive "S" rested against her skin, and on her hip was a small anchor, holding a significance Grace didn't know. Each stroke of her pencil brought her closer to that feeling of the morning she wanted to keep for good.

Looking up at Karen across the room, Grace realized that the she was engrossed in her own work, running her pen across a piece of paper. Grace couldn't help but get absorbed by the scene; she had become lost in the wonder that was Karen's silence, lulled into a level of peace the redhead only associated with her. And it suddenly shattered when Karen abruptly crumpled up the paper she had been so intently concentrating on, and threw it in the trashcan beside her desk. Grace, not knowing what else to do, had quickly shifted her gaze back to her sketchpad, alarmed by the hasty reaction Karen had to her own work. When Karen had left for the restroom, Grace searched through the trashcan and tried her best to flatten the paper ball. She found that Karen drew a bird in an open cage, looking mournful, fearful to escape. The redhead couldn't help but take it as a sign of a fear that Karen wasn't telling her about. And it consumed her.

Ever since she found the crumpled up drawing in the trash, Grace had the overwhelming feeling that soon it would be over. She had the overwhelming feeling that those fleeting "You remind me of..." comments weren't so fleeting after all, and have built up a wall that proved difficult to climb. Karen had gotten distant, not because she had fallen out of love, but because she was in too deep, and it scared her. And what else can you do when you're scared but retreat to a safe place?

Now, Grace left the car idling on the side of the road, unwilling to give up heat as she took a rest from her drive, as she began to build up the courage to read what she had been given. She had always wanted to understand what Karen had gone through, and had expressed her desire on more than one occasion. Upon first impression, Karen Walker always comes off as an extremely guarded person. _You don't know what you're asking_ , Karen had said. But it did not deter her. She wanted to know. She wanted to ensure that that part of Karen's history was over.

On a sticky note attached to the front cover of the notebook, in Karen's looped handwriting, she read the words she had until now not fully processed. And she wanted to cry at the sentiment—short, simple, and no matter if she hopes against it, potentially true.

 _This is how I know you'll break my heart._

If she was going to save this, she had to know what she was up against. She had to know the people who have affected Karen, know their mistakes. So she opened up the notebook and began to look through her lover's history.


	2. Last Call Lullabye

" _ **And I'll give you quarters to play  
**_ _ **Any song that you want on the jukebox  
**_ _ **Fixin' to find us a daddy  
**_ _ **Who'll keep buying me whiskey on the rocks  
**_ _ **Mama loves you…"  
**_ _ **-Mary Birdsong, "Last Call Lullabye"**_

 _1966: Age 7_

 _From the diary of Karen Delaney: "Mama says she's looking for Daddy. She won't find him."_

In such a small town, you knew everybody's business, whether you wanted to or not. Everybody knew about the Delaneys. Everybody knew that Chris Delaney died in a freak work accident, leaving behind his wife and daughter. Everybody knew that it didn't take long for Lois Delaney to go through the grieving process and get back on her feet in a way that was less than admirable. Everybody knew that Lois used a different name to go to a dive bar the next town over so that her business wouldn't be their business (but word traveled fast anyway; there was no stopping it). And everybody knew that when Lois went out at night, she took little Karen with her.

Lois played it off as suddenly being thrown into the role of a single mother, not knowing what else she could do with her kid; she certainly couldn't leave Karen home alone, and it's not like she had a family anymore. But everybody knew that Lois Delaney—or Whitley, or whatever she was calling herself now—used her daughter as a prop, in order to gain the sympathy of the men she met.

"We're going on an adventure, Kiki." Her mother said this every time she loaded her in the car and drove off. Lois always tried to make it seem as though she was taking Karen to a special land that no other kids have seen, as though Karen should consider herself lucky because of this. And every time, Karen let herself believe that this night would be different than all the other nights. This night would be exactly how Mama described it. But when she walked through the door holding Lois' hand, she quickly realized that it would be the same as it always was.

As Lois dragged her up to the bar, Karen tugged on her mother's arm. She was tired already; she just wanted to fall asleep in her bed. "Mama," she said. "Please can we go home now? I don't want to be here."

"Sweetheart, we just got here," Lois said with a forced smile as she helped her daughter up onto a stool at the end of the bar. No one ever questioned the presence of a small child here; perhaps that should have been a signal as to the kind of people that frequented this place. "Remember, I'm doing this for you. I'm going to find you a daddy who can take care of you, and of me. Don't you worry. Look, Lucas is here tonight, he'll look after you. Here, take these." She handed her daughter some quarters. "You can play with the jukebox whenever you want." And with that, she ordered her whiskey on the rocks, setting her sights on any man who looked like he took care of himself before she tried to work her way into his heart. Karen rested her head in her arms on the bar, blankly watching her mother try to deliver on promises Lois knew she couldn't keep.

"Well, hey, little lady. Are you sure you should be here?" Karen jumped suddenly at the sound of another voice, and looked up to see a smiling Lucas, one of the regular bartenders, across from her behind the bar. She gave him a small "Hi" and tried to put on a smile. Even though she hated the bar, she liked Lucas. He made her feel less alone when her mother brought her here. "I bet I know how to make that smile a little bigger," he said. And before her eyes, Karen watched him pour Coca-Cola over ice into a daiquiri glass, drop a cherry on a stem into it and stuck a small paper umbrella into the drink along with a straw. He knew these little additions were just that—little—but when he thought about what her home situation must be like, he wanted to make sure she was treated like a princess at least some time in her life. "Just for you, darlin'," Lucas said as he slid it across the bar into the little girl's hands. "You just tell me when you want another one, okay?" Karen nodded and sipped her soda, watched as Lucas shifted his attention to his other regulars.

It had been two hours before Lois came to check on her daughter. "Oh, Kiki," she slurred, looking back at the man she had been talking up for the better part of the night. "You are being such a good girl. You're the best, baby." She leaned in and kissed Karen on the cheek. Karen could smell whiskey on her mother's breath. And despite the child's protests—"But, Mama…"—Lois told her "I'll only be a little longer" before returning to her new gentleman friend. Karen could feel the tears in her throat.

She looked at the quarters on the bar. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 _1998: Age 39_

"You're the best, baby." It had become a habit now, this little toast to herself, under her breath, just before the alcohol hit her lips and she surrendered to the intoxication she had come to depend on. It served as nothing more than a sharp reminder that although she had tried her hardest not to, she had inevitably become her mother, looking in the wrong places for love, getting to the point where love was no longer a factor in seeking out a viable mate. Sure, she wasn't looking in small-town dive bars, but the love she had found in Manhattan, in the South, in all the other places she looked, wasn't love at all, except that one time. And look how quickly and crudely it had been taken away from her. But now, she was stuck in a loveless marriage, and she actually preferred it; she couldn't be disappointed because the bar was already set so low. Besides, she had come to realize that the only people she could really trust were the bartenders who served her. She could trust Lucas to make her a little more comfortable when her mother went out. She could trust every other bartender to give her exactly what she says she wants.

She wasn't quite sure how she ended up in this dive in the Village; maybe it was because her history had wired her to move towards these places. But the likelier reason was that she wanted to be somewhere she normally wasn't. She had gotten so sick of the socialite circle she became a part of once her relationship with Stan had become legitimate. She just wished she remembered where she kept all the clothes she had saved from her past (probably tucked away in the far corners of that ridiculously massive closet, far from Stan's prying eyes…if he even gave a damn). She felt ridiculous in her Chanel, nursing her whiskey on the rocks—sentimental reasons—sitting at a bar with chips in the wood.

"Are you sure you should be here?" Karen jumped at the voice and looked next to her, found a redheaded woman brushing a lock of curls behind her ear. Silence for a moment, and then, "You don't look like you belong here. I don't mean that as a bad thing. This place is kind of a dump. But it's cheap, so I guess that's a plus." The redhead took a sip of her drink. "Although, I think I can safely assume that money is no issue."

Karen let a sly smile play across her face. "I swear I'm not trying to slum it."

"I wouldn't necessarily blame you if you were. Park Avenue might be fun for a little while, but I'd think it would get boring. It's more interesting on this side of the fence." The girl kept her eyes on Karen as she sipped her pint, and Karen swore to god she saw the slightest hint of a smile in them.

"I know. I used to hang around in places like this. Maybe I'm trying to regain a sense of who I was. I liked myself a lot more back then." Karen winced when she said that. She didn't even know this woman; why was she so willing to spill her life story so quickly? "God, I'm so sorry, honey," she said. "This isn't why you came here tonight."

"Hey, it's okay. The bartender here is kind of an asshole, so I don't mind being the makeshift therapist." She inched her way closer to Karen, slid her glass in front of her. "Besides," she said, "you're not the only one who's hiding from something. Although I'm not sure if my dull relationship can compare to the woes of socialite living."

Karen could tell that there was something eating at the redhead, behind the sarcasm and jokes to lighten the mood. And somehow, that made her more comfortable around the woman. Knowing that she wasn't alone—even if their problems came from different places—made her feel safe in the company of this stranger. And she didn't want to leave tonight. She tried to flag the bartender down and told the redhead, "Why don't I buy the next round and we can commiserate?" The woman sitting next to her smiled and nodded. "I don't even know your name," Karen said suddenly. "I'm Karen."

"Grace," the redhead said quietly, before launching into the woes of her personal life. Karen never had anyone talk to her about things like this. And there was something about Grace—as she talked, as she listened—that Karen couldn't place but wanted to be in the presence of always. This was the most companionship she had felt for as long as she could remember, and she just met this woman.

Regardless, she wanted to make it a long night.


	3. Thirteen

" _ **Won't you let me walk you home from school?  
**_ _ **Won't you let me meet you at the pool?  
**_ _ **Maybe Friday I can  
**_ _ **Get tickets for the dance  
**_ _ **And I'll take you."  
**_ _ **-Big Star, "Thirteen"**_

 _1972: Age 13_

 _From the diary of Karen Delaney: "Please let me stay here. I like this place. I like him. I really like him. I like that I don't have to worry about where we're going to live next. Mom seems like she calmed down. I don't think she's going to hurt anyone again. I even like the guy she met. He doesn't pretend that he's Dad. He doesn't act like anyone except who he is. Maybe we can finally be normal. For once."_

She had just entered middle school in a new town. By her count—which may not have been the most reliable—this was the sixth new town that she, her mother, and her little sister (whose father Lois could not place and was therefore forced to concoct a grandiose fable about him, not only for Virginia, but also for Karen in the hopes that she would still be young enough to be fooled) had come to in order to start a better life. And when they ended up in Massachusetts, Karen was hesitant to unpack her bags, living out of her suitcases for a full month before Lois could successfully convince her that they wouldn't leave for a long time, if ever. But eventually, Karen and her mother started hanging her clothes up in the closet. Eventually, they settled in.

In the year they lived there, Lois had found a man she liked, and instead of conning him out of his money, tried to make a home with him. Virginia, who had spent all of her little life moving constantly from one state to another, slowly got used to a stationary way of living. And Karen settled into her new school, with her new friends, before she caught the eye of a quiet boy in her English class. Looking back on this as she grew older, Karen would laugh at her young first love while at the same time wanting to go back to a point where she was that happy in a relationship, no matter how naïve or ridiculous that first relationship with Scott was (when she did look back in later years, she would no longer remember what his name was and hated that she forgot). They were shy, because they didn't know what they were doing. And because they were shy, they were kind to each other. And because they were kind to each other, Karen didn't want it to end.

On a Wednesday afternoon, Scott was walking Karen home once school ended, as he always did during the week. The palm of his hand was warm as she fit her own inside of it. She looked down to see the way her fingers tangled with his and smiled; she liked the way it felt. "I was thinking we could go to the dance on Friday," he said quietly as she looked up to face him. "I mean, if you want to. Maybe we can go for ice cream after."

"Yeah," Karen said as she tightened her hold on his hand. "That would be great. You really want to go with me?"

"Well, yeah." Scott turned to meet her gaze, gave her a crooked smile. "I like you. Why wouldn't I want to go with you?" They spent the rest of their walk in a comfortable silence, and she watched him head home after she dropped her off at her doorstep, feeling the grin widening along her lips. When she walked into the house, she found her little sister in tears on the living room couch, clutching her teddy bear as tightly as she could to her chest.

Karen dropped her books and her bag and rushed to her side. "Ginny, what happened?" she asked. All Virginia could do was shake her head; if she wanted to talk, she didn't have the voice to do so. From the kitchen, Karen could hear her mother calling out that it was going to be okay. She followed Lois' voice and found her shoving the remnants of what was supposed to be their permanent life in this town into worn suitcases, the sight of which Karen had come to dread. "Mom?" she said meekly, hoping that if she interrupted the scene, it would never play out to the end.

"Kiki, go pack your clothing, anything that you absolutely need," Lois said evenly. It was too calm for the situation, and it scared Karen. "We need to get out of here now." Karen tried to form the words for a protest, or at the very least, a request for an explanation, but her mother cut her off before she even began. "Don't argue with me right now, Karen. We have to go. Everything will be okay; I just need you to listen to me. Go pack your bags. Take your sister with you. Try to calm her down." And with her sister in tow, Karen went upstairs to her bedroom, pulled her clothes from the closet while trying to reassure Virginia that everything will be okay soon, even though she wasn't sure of it herself.

Later, she would find out the reason they had to leave so suddenly. Later, she would find out that Lois had gone back to her old ways, and started slowly stealing money from the man she had been seeing, eventually taking too much for him not to notice. Lois wanted to leave before things got worse. No one knew where they were headed then, but that was the same as every other time they fled their home. They would find a hotel to stay at for a few days before figuring out a plan to put their family back on the path of normalcy. But frankly, Karen had gotten sick of it, sick of her mother's ways, sick of never feeling at home, sick of everything. She felt herself start to hate her mother for forcing her daughters to go through this. But most of all, she was upset. Because she never got a say in these decisions. Because she wanted to go to the dance on Friday night.

Because she never got to say goodbye to him.

* * *

 _1998_

"I can leave…you know, if this is awkward. When I saw the ad, I didn't realize it was you. I didn't know your last name. Honestly, I didn't think I'd see you again."

Karen never expected to find herself sitting in Grace Adler Designs like this. She just knew that life inside a stifling Park Avenue penthouse became too much to bear. The air was suffocating; she could feel the life inside of her slip away, and the worst part was that Stan didn't notice. Or, if he did, he didn't bring attention to it, and Karen couldn't figure out which scenario was worse. So this morning, when her husband left for work, she found herself pacing around their home, thumbing through the paper and coming across the classifieds. Her eyes had settled on an ad asking for an assistant to an interior designer.

Two things came to her mind as soon as she read that little print square. The first was that answering phones wouldn't be so hard. The second was that she could use this as an excuse to escape the prison that had become the place she was supposed to call home.

When she walked into the office, she froze when the redhead she met at the bar a couple of weeks ago made eye contact with her from across the room. Grace had faltered a bit, obviously surprised to see the stranger she had so willingly opened up to standing in front of her in hopes of employment. And Karen wasn't sure if she imagined it, but she could swear that she saw the slightest hint of a smile when Grace looked down at her appointment book. Now, they were sitting across from each other in a silence Karen couldn't gauge.

"No, please don't go," Grace said. "I'm really glad you're here." The redhead played with the rings on her fingers and took the sight of Karen in for a moment. "I know you don't have a resume, but honestly, I'm not looking for much. I basically need someone to answer the phones, send some faxes, run a few errands. And it's good that we already know a little bit about each other. At least I know we can communicate pretty well."

"I can probably get you a few high profile clients too. I don't mean to wave that around. I'm actually regretting that I said it. But I'll do whatever you want me to do. And I'll be here whenever you want me to be here. I don't have any pressing commitments."

"So why do you want to work for me?"

"Do you want the standard answer or the real answer?" Grace laughed to fill the silence. And whether or not it was a sign to go for it, the dark haired woman went with the latter. "I don't want to go home. I hate it there. I want to do something bigger than what I've got there. And I know this doesn't seem big, but at least it's bigger than nothing. And now that I know it's for you, I feel like I picked your ad for a reason, whether I knew it before or not. You know some of my issues. You officially know me better than the women who are supposed to be my friends. This seems like a safe space."

In that moment, the redhead's eyes softened more than Karen had ever seen anyone do. It wasn't as though Grace was a hard-hearted person, because she wasn't; but whereas before she had warmed up to Karen, now she had melted. Whether it was out of pity or genuine strange friendship, Grace asked, "Can you start today?"

Karen looked at the clock on the wall behind Grace. It was nearing noon. She sighed with relief at the thought of not having to return to an empty home just yet, and smiled. "I would love to start today. Thank you for this, Grace."

Grace watched this woman stand up, make her way towards what was now her desk; this woman who looked like she would never be forced into a situation to find work, yet needed this position the most. "Wait," she said, watching Karen stop to catch her gaze. "I can do this since you technically haven't started working for me yet." And in one swift movement, she moved to the other side of the room and took Karen in her arms in a hug. "I'm so glad that you're here."

Karen couldn't figure out what was more surprising: the fact that when she wrapped her arms around the redhead, Grace tightened her hold, or the realization that this was the most she had ever felt with another person since Stan first put his ring on her finger.


	4. Wendy

" _ **And I wanna be like Wendy  
**_ _ **And I wanna be like Wendy  
**_ _ **All-star tease, all-star tease  
**_ _ **Bang 'em up, bruiser queen  
**_ _ **I wanna ride on your trampoline."  
**_ _ **-Cake Like, "Wendy"**_

 _1976: Age 17_

 _From the diary of Karen Delaney: "I shouldn't feel this way. Nobody talks about feeling this way. But what is so wrong about it? I can't help that she likes me more than she likes him. I want to tell everyone what we're doing, but I know she would deny it. But at least I get to tell her to her face that she's beautiful."_

Beauty queen. Homecoming queen. Karen's queen.

When she found herself in Maine last year, under the care of her father's sister Caroline, Karen knew she had almost everything going against her. She had to fill her aunt in on everything her mother had done since her father's death, why she was so fed up with Lois and ran away from home, leaving her little sister behind with so much reluctance, and calling Caroline frantically from the nearest payphone begging her to take her in. The last place Karen had ended up with her mother was one town away from Caroline; it was a no-brainer.

Lois never called after her, and in all honesty, Karen never minded. She didn't want to be found; if she was found, she would only be dragged back to the life she was trying to distance herself from. But the baggage of her past kept her from flourishing in this new town. High school was always a danger zone, but now that she was in her Senior year, she didn't see the point of even trying to make friends. So she had resigned herself to being a wallflower, trying to save herself from the awkward social free-for-all that was contained in that building. As long as she made it to graduation day, she could break free from it all, do whatever she wanted.

And then in walks Wendy. Dating a boy from the football team. Sitting pretty in the highest social circle in school. Untouchable by the likes of Karen, by the likes of most people. Assigned to be Karen's lab partner in Chemistry. Karen had always excelled in her studies, always made sure that she performed the best she could, and it didn't take long for Wendy to appreciate the grades coming to them as a result of the pairing. And because Karen was the main reason behind the way they excelled in class, Wendy took it upon herself to try to make some conversation, if only to show her appreciation. They never expected to like each other. And they were careful to make sure that no one else knew that they did, only confining their public interaction to Chemistry class, sneaking off whenever they wanted to see each other outside of the judgment that always came along with high school.

Karen wasn't sure if it was a joke on her when Wendy kissed her under the bleachers the first time. It was only when it happened again, underneath the metal seats while Wendy's boyfriend was on the football field practicing that she let herself relax, that she let herself kiss this girl back.

The flame would burn out faster than it took to spark; Wendy would move to California for college and realize any long distance relationship would take more effort than she could give, severing her ties with both Karen and her boyfriend. But when it did burn, it was intense. It was uncharted territory, not only closing the gap between cliques, but also feeling the kiss of another girl. It was exhilarating. It was liberating. It made Karen come out of her shell.

A few weeks before the end, Karen got a call from Wendy asking her to come over, to meet her in her backyard. Karen rode her bike in the dark, stepped quietly through the trees in Wendy's yard until she found her blonde beauty queen sitting on the trampoline by the porch. Whether it was because they knew it would soon be over, or simply because they didn't want to wake Wendy's parents, they didn't speak. Wendy had an old pageant tiara in her hands and put it in Karen's hair before she took her hand and helped her onto the trampoline. She had always told Karen that she was beautiful; Karen had never believed her. Looking back on it, Karen would wonder if Wendy realized how significant of a gesture it was, to crown her as her private beauty. They spent that night lying on the trampoline looking at the stars. And for the first time in years, Karen felt as though she belonged.

She loved someone the outside world told her not to love. She didn't care. She knew she wasn't wrong.

* * *

 _1998_

She wasn't sure how long this had been growing inside of her—for all she knew, it began when they first met—but as she felt Grace's hot breath on her shoulder as the redhead leaned over her and showed her what needed to be faxed, Karen knew for certain that it would be hard to contain it.

Maybe it was the fact that Grace had been so warm right from the start, when Stanley had turned to ice. Maybe it was the fact that Grace was so willing to help without asking for much. But she found that her thoughts of her redheaded savior had lingered with her long after she left the office. And at first, she didn't think much of it, had chalked it up to the fact that Grace was the one she spent most of her day with, so naturally it would be hard for Karen to get her out of her mind. But then she felt the warmth of Grace's words on her skin, the warmth of Grace's body so close to her own. And she discovered, whether she wanted to or not, that she was toeing a line that once crossed could never be returned to again.

But god…every time she thought of even the possibility crossing that line, she thought of Wendy. Wendy, who was forbidden not only on a level of what her small Maine town thought was normal, but because of high school hierarchy as well. Sure, some may have considered her boyfriend as something else that made her off limits, but Wendy had never been too concerned about him, so why should Karen have been?

Grace was forbidden too. It was hardly the fact that she was another woman; Karen had always been comfortable with her sexuality, even more so since she moved to New York City. It was more because she was now working for the redhead. It was more because they had become tentative friends under the circumstances. But in spite of it all, Karen couldn't help herself. She wanted Grace. And she could swear that Grace wanted her, too. It was in the way she lingered during the day, her hand leaving Karen's shoulder just a second too late. Her smile staying on her face a moment longer than it should. The slight blush that occasionally rose to her cheeks when Karen spoke. Karen knew all the signs; she had lived long enough, and gone through plenty of relationships to know how this went. And she was so close, she was. She would have gone for it; that is, if she hadn't met Danny.

Karen always knew that Grace had a boyfriend; it was the reason she ended up in the dive bar, the reason they started talking. But she had never seen him, just like she had never seen Wendy's boyfriend, wasn't sure which member of the football team he actually was. And like Wendy, Grace's current relationship became irrelevant to Karen. Until one afternoon when she had come back from her lunch hour earlier than Grace had.

She had been absently flipping through a catalog from home when she heard voices through the open door, coming from the stairwell. Automatically, she could pick out Grace's laugh. The other voice belonged to a man she could not place, and she figured it went along with Grace's best friend she keeps talking about, Will something-or-other. But then she saw the kiss through the doorway, and knew that it must be _Him_. The capital-H Him who she could not refer to by his first name ever since she realized these things about herself, about her connection with Grace. The redhead caught the dark haired woman's stare and broke away from her boyfriend. "Karen," she said with a smile as she walked into the office. "This is Danny." Karen slipped her lifeless hand into Danny's grip and murmured a half-hearted hello before he left. And when she was certain he was out of earshot, she muttered under her breath.

"I thought we were supposed to be professional here."

It didn't matter how softly she said it. It cut through Grace and Karen could tell; she instantly regretted it. The redhead physically jerked, as if she had been startled by someone coming up from behind her. Karen couldn't blame her. After all, they had been nothing but warm to each other up until then; it simply didn't make sense for Karen to say something so cold. Grace's lips parted as if she would respond, but nothing came of it; she simply lowered her head and made her way back to her desk.

As much as she didn't want it to, the comment sparked in Karen a mean streak. Slowly working in criticism, slowly watching Grace's skin grow tougher. And while she knew it left Grace confused and defensive, Karen was not about to explain herself. Because the truth was, she knew she had to drive a wedge in between them in order to keep her heart intact. She had been kind to everyone she loved, and when they were gone, the hurt was too much to bear. This time would be different. She knew she couldn't have Grace. So she distanced herself as much as possible; that way, when the inevitable happened, and the redhead grew tired of her friendship, she wouldn't feel it as deeply as she usually does.

Everyone leaves. And she was not about to feel the pain that would surely come when Grace left.


	5. Thread

" _ **I'm caught up in the back and forth  
**_ _ **Of balancing my fear  
**_ _ **I'll tell you, though, for what it's worth  
**_ _ **I fell for you, my dear."  
**_ _ **-k.d. lang, "Thread"**_

 _1978: Age 19_

 _From the diary of Karen Delaney: "Oh god, I hope he doesn't know."_

She hated formal dances in high school. But she hated them even more when she got to college. They reminded her so much of the juvenile antics she had longed to avoid once she enrolled in her studies. Karen didn't want to go, even when that guy from her British Lit class asked her to be his date (she had told him that she'd think about it, not wanting to let him down so hard right away). It wasn't that he was unkind; in fact, she was closer to him than most at the school. She just never thought of him in the way he was obviously thinking of her. But then, in passing, her roommate Sylvia had told her that her boyfriend Elliot had asked her to go. And that changed everything.

More than anything, Karen wanted to know how Sylvia felt against her body. It killed her to watch Sylvia move during the day, to know that she was only a few short feet away when they slept at night. If Karen slept at all. But it was such a delicate situation to be in. They lived together in the dorms. Karen knew that if she were to make the move she so desperately wanted to make and it backfired, it would shatter the harmony that they build in their temporary home. But that didn't mean she didn't want to so badly to try, even as she started to distance herself from the girl, if only to salvage whatever sanity still hovered over them (god, Karen hated giving her the cold shoulder, but she knew it had to be done). She could see the look in Sylvia's eyes whenever she was with her boyfriend; she wasn't happy. Still, Sylvia smiled her absent smile, playing a part she regretted auditioning for.

As soon as Karen found out that Sylvia would be at the dance, she stuck around after British Lit to catch the guy who had asked her out, told him that she would be happy to go with him. But when she picked out her dress and did her hair, she wasn't thinking of how he would react to her appearance. All she could think of was how Sylvia would see her. It wasn't as if she was expecting anything. But she could dream.

She walked into the dance on the arm of her date (for the life of her now, Karen cannot remember what his name is), trying as hard as she could to mask the fact that she was frantically searching for her love. But with Sylvia nowhere in sight, she reluctantly turned her attention to her date, who was all smiles. "God, you look stunning," he said before bending down to kiss her cheek (she hated how he towered over her). "Let me get you something to drink." She watched him as he made his way to the refreshments and sighed. Because she knew what he was expecting tonight. And she knew she couldn't give it to him.

Just as she started to follow him, she felt someone pull her back and turn her around. Karen's heart skipped a beat when she found Sylvia and her big, sad eyes, gorgeous in a dress made of dark green satin. Her boyfriend had gone off to greet his friends, leaving Sylvia to her own devices. "Come with me," she said to Karen in a distraught whisper, and before waiting for a response, pulled Karen by the wrist to the restroom and locked the door. "What are you doing here?" she asked with tears forming in her eyes. "You hate these things."

"I was asked," Karen said. "You don't want me here, do you?"

"I can't do this with you here," Sylvia said as she paced around the tile floor, her speech speeding up with each step. "I can't be with him when you're here, I can't, he's going to know."

"Hey." Karen grabbed a hold of Sylvia's shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. "Calm down. Don't get yourself so worked up. Tell me what's going on."

"I hate that you don't talk to me anymore." And before Karen could respond, she felt Sylvia's lips pressed fiercely against her own. She felt Sylvia's fingers running down her back, fumbling with the zipper of her dress as they stumbled across the room against the wall. Her touch was warm, her lips sweeter than Karen had ever tasted. It was pointless to try to refuse it now. Karen let her hands slide down Sylvia's curves, and Sylvia pulled back. _Devil_ , Karen thought. She went too far. She messed up. She couldn't come back from this.

Sylvia smiled and brushed a lock of Karen's hair behind her ear. "Don't hide from me," she said. "It hurts to want you when you do." She plunged her lips into Karen's neck and sighed in ecstasy.

When they resurfaced on the dance floor, Karen watched as Sylvia automatically returned to Elliot's arms, and although she knew it was to assuage suspicion, it broke Karen's heart to witness this scene. Her date didn't seem concerned at all that she had been gone, leaving her disillusioned, and immediately took her by the waist to dance. She could feel his heart beating against his chest when she rested her head against it. So slowly so he wouldn't notice, Karen moved towards Sylvia and Elliot, and when she got close enough—and was sure that their dates weren't paying attention—she reached for Sylvia's hand and held it while she swayed to the music with her date. It was the beginning of a secret that made her whole.

It was a secret she didn't mind keeping.

* * *

 _1998_

She walked into the Park Avenue penthouse to find her with a smile plastered on her face as he kissed her in front of the crowd, and she was angered by the thought that Karen Walker was full of shit. And almost as instantly, she was relieved that she decided to drag Danny along with her at the last minute.

Grace wasn't sure why she was so upset at what looked like Karen's happiness. She wasn't even quite sure if it was real happiness. It might have been staged, and she wouldn't be surprised, in such a public occasion like this. But it sure as hell looked real. It felt real. It was as if there was a fist against Grace's skin that wouldn't unclench until it did as much damage as it could possibly do. And she wanted to shout, so loud, to get it to stop, but what exactly was wrong about a wife interacting with her husband?

Here, in this setting, with these people, with their background, everything.

Lately, Karen had started to turn cold, bitter with the redhead during the workday. Grace had originally chalked it up to trouble at home; they had met commiserating over their relationship woes, after all. But this absence that Grace felt made her realize just how much she relied on Karen's friendship. How much she relied on Karen speaking, Karen doing anything, to make her feel as though she wasn't alone. And now, looking at the way she held onto him, she was overwhelmed with loneliness in this sea of people.

Danny made his way to the bar that was set up without asking Grace if she wanted anything. She didn't belong here. She knew it. But it was that feeling in the pit of her stomach that brought her here. That indescribable yet wonderful feeling she got every time Karen looked at her, that feeling that could only be attributed to the dark haired woman, because she had only ever felt it in her presence. And until she could put a name to it (and even when she could put a name to it), she wanted to be in Karen's presence forever. Danny was supposed to make her feel this way, and maybe at one point, he could have. But her mind was with Karen now.

Karen caught the redhead's eyes and Grace felt it where she always did. No smile, no light in the eyes that Grace had wanted so badly to be the cause of. She watched as Karen parted the socialite sea and stopped in front of her. "I didn't expect to see you here," she said once she reached speaking distance. "You don't seem like the kind of person to want to go to these things."

"I was asked," Grace said meekly. "I can go if you don't want me here."

"Honey, I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't want you here." Karen looked around the place before taking Grace's hand. "Come with me," she said softly, forcefully. The redhead was led upstairs to the library, a sudden silence washing over them as soon as Karen closed the door. "What's going on, Grace?" she asked, her gaze following the redhead as she sat down on the couch. "You obviously have something on your mind."

Grace turned to face her when Karen took a seat next to her. "You don't talk to me anymore. I couldn't figure out why. And then I walk in here, and I see you kissing him, and I realize that it's because you just can't keep up with the charade of a broken marriage anymore. I saw the smile on your face. You were happy. We have nothing in common."

"You don't know the first thing about my marriage. And I'm certainly not going to apologize for having one good day with Stan out of the thousand others that are horrible. If you're angry with me for being happy for thirty minutes, maybe you should reexamine your own life instead of obsessing over mine."

They let the silence hover around them for a moment. Then, in a fit of desperation, Grace pulled Karen into her arms, thinking back on how she had done just this during Karen's interview, and what a drastically sad difference a few weeks makes. "I just want you back, that's all," she managed with a cracked voice. And before she fully realized what she was doing, she kissed the soft skin of Karen's neck, lingering even though she knew she shouldn't.

"Please don't do this to me," Karen whispered, defeated, feeling the hot sting of tears piercing her cheek. "You have no idea."

Grace pulled away and froze. It was the first time in weeks she didn't hear a calculated, almost robotically cruel response from Karen, and she didn't know what to do. She watched as Karen slowly made her way out the door, and waited a couple of minutes before she followed suit.

"I want to go home now," she said when she found Danny downstairs. Because she had finally found the name for the feeling in her stomach. And she couldn't bear dealing with it in the company of her boyfriend, of Stan, and of the woman she had inexplicably fallen for.


	6. Sylvia's Mother

" _ **Sylvia's mother says, 'Sylvia's packing,  
She's going to be leaving today.'  
**_ _ **Sylvia's mother says, 'Sylvia's marrying  
Some fellow down Galveston Way.'  
**_ _ **And Sylvia's mother says, 'Don't you say nothin'  
To make her start crying and stay.'  
**_ _ **And the operator says 'Forty cents more  
**_ _ **For the next three minutes, please.'"  
**_ _ **-Cottonhead, "Sylvia's Mother"**_

 _1979: Age 20_

 _From the diary of Karen Delaney: "If she had told me that this is what she wanted, I would have left her alone. But I know. This isn't her. Her mother is speaking for her. I couldn't even say goodbye to her. She is solely responsible for the person I am in this moment, and I didn't get to say goodbye to her. This world is unjust to those who do no harm."_

"Please. Ma'am, I'm begging you. Just one minute."

If they hadn't chosen a college so close to Sylvia's home in North Carolina, they would have made it through unscathed. If Sylvia's parents weren't so involved in their daughter's life, they would have been able to run away undetected. They could have gone anywhere, the next county over, New York, Paris; they both had passports, what difference would it have made? But they met at a school a mere fifteen minutes away from the Averys. And they didn't leave when they had the chance.

They had talked about it, when they locked the door to their dorm room at night and climbed into the same twin sized bed. Their room had become their sanctuary, the only place they could be free. They played with the idea that they would drop out of school and close out their bank accounts, use the money to go wherever they wanted and shed all the pretenses of their past lives. But Sylvia always laughed softly and kissed Karen's nose. _Let's make that our last resort_ , she would say. And that was always the end of it, until the next quiet night filled with wanderlust. They were going to do it later. There was always a later.

Until Elliot walked in on what they thought was a stolen moment alone, and found his girlfriend with her lips pressed against Karen's. Until he let it slip to Sylvia's parents that she was living in what they consider to be sin. Until her parents barged into their room while Karen was in class and shoved Sylvia's belongings into suitcases and brought their daughter home.

Karen waited for two weeks. Waited for her to knock on the dorm door. Waited for her to call and say she was coming back to their sanctuary. Waited to run into her, take her by the hand and run off to New York, to Paris. She had called from the dorm more times than she could count; every time, Sylvia's mother answered, and every time, Karen hung up. But then one day, she looked around the half-empty room she used to share with her secret lover and realized she couldn't take it anymore.

She only packed what she needed, thankful for one of the few lessons her mother ever taught her—a few changes of clothes, the novel bookmarked in the middle, a photograph of her with her hand pressed to Sylvia's heart and her smile barely containing the laugh that was escaping—and started driving in a random direction.

Now, outside some nameless diner with the dirty receiver to a payphone against her ear, she was begging Sylvia's mother for something with which she was certain she would not be rewarded. She closed her eyes as she listened to the quiet and stern words coming from the other end. "You listen up. Sylvie's not gonna be under your spell anymore. She'll be marrying that nice boy you tried to steal her away from. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Mama?"

It was faint, but Karen knew Sylvia's voice like it was her own, and the instant that southern lilt hit her ear, she felt the tears falling down her cheeks. "I just want to say goodbye, that's all. I'm not trying to fight you," she said. And it surprised her how truthful that was. Of course Karen wanted Sylvia to herself. But there was no way they would ever be able to make a life for themselves. Not now. Maybe not ever. And in this moment of defeat, she wasn't asking for much.

Sylvia's mother, in an attempt to cover everything up, responded with "I'm sorry I couldn't help you more, sir. But thank you for calling." Karen hung up before the operator could ask her for more money.

Then she started up the car and drove until she ran out of gas.

* * *

 _1998_

He didn't find her in time to say goodbye, which is to say he probably didn't try. This place was big by Manhattan's standards, but you couldn't get lost in the way she wanted. When the silence takes over, the penthouse feels endless. She hated that.

Karen took one last drag off of her cigarette as she stood on the balcony, watching the orange glow burn down to the filter, before looking at her watch. Stan was long gone by now, boarding a plane to Berlin or Baton Rouge or wherever the hell his work is taking him this time. There was a time when he asked her to come along with him, and she saw so much of the world in their early years together. But eventually, the thought of solitude became far more enticing than traveling to a foreign land. Eventually, he stopped asking. Eventually, he all but stopped speaking to her. What was there to say, other than what they already knew? A wife on his arm looked good, for his business life, for his social life, for the surface. Usually, the silence meant that they could stay on neutral ground; there were no words exchanged, so nothing could be said to help or hurt their world. But ever since the party a few nights ago, she hasn't been able to stop thinking of Grace's lips on her skin, and wanted nothing more than some sort of distraction from the memory.

It was one thing to chase after a straight woman; yes, she would have been bound for heartbreak, but at least she would have been able to control herself knowing that she could never have what she wanted. But in one fell swoop, Grace changed the game completely. Grace made it okay for her to think these things when the last thing she needed was the green light. Not out of respect for her own marriage, of course; she knew about the times Stan had strayed from her, and if it had happened early on in their relationship, she might have felt that sting of betrayal. It was the odd respect for Grace's flawed relationship with Danny that she couldn't shake, unwilling to be the one to trash something that was garbage in the first place. She retreated from the chill of the autumn air to the library, lighting up another cigarette as she moved—Stan was gone, there was no one left to be considerate of. Let the smoke fill the house, for all she cared.

She didn't mean to head towards the phone. But this overwhelming loneliness in this overwhelming building made her crave the voice that made all the tension that had grown between them meaningless. It made her crave the warmth she once felt from Grace's body as the redhead wrapped her comforting arms around her. She needed Grace here. She couldn't control her fingers as they dialed the numbers she knew by heart— _It's Will's,_ she said when she first wrote it down for Karen, _but I'm there more than I'm home anyway_ —holding her breath as it rang.

"Hello?"

Karen was startled by the male voice on the other end. In her imagination, Grace was simply alone, around the apartment, waiting for someone to spark her. Selfish, but it was the way Karen coped with the flurry of new emotion—believing that she was not the only one rendered all but paralyzed by it. "Will?" Devil. Does he know? How much does Grace tell him? Why else would she be calling this late? She took a deep breath, tried her best to keep the shakiness in her hands from traveling to her voice. "It's Karen. Is Grace around?"

"No. She decided to spend the night at Danny's. Is this about work? I can give you the number if it's important."

Important? Of course it's important. For a fleeting moment, Karen actually considered getting the number from Will, considered calling Danny's apartment on the pretense of a work emergency, before hijacking his girlfriend for her own secret desires. But that would make her the kind of person that had hurt her so often in the past. She would become the thing that she hated the most. She had done a lot of things in her life that she wasn't proud of, been a lot of people she despised, but there was no way she would let this happen.

"Karen?" Will asked, pulling her back out of her mind.

"That won't be necessary. I'll just speak to her in the morning."

She hung up the phone, wiping the tears away from her eyes as she watched the ash from her cigarette fall to the floor.


	7. You Can Sleep While I Drive

" _ **Come on, baby, let's get out of this town  
**_ _ **I've got a full tank of gas with the top rolled down  
**_ _ **There's a chill in my bones  
**_ _ **I don't wanna be left alone  
**_ _ **And baby, you can sleep while I drive."  
**_ _ **-Melissa Etheridge, "You Can Sleep While I Drive"**_

 _1981: Age 22_

 _From the diary of Karen Delaney: "I shouldn't tell her. I shouldn't even say it. If I say it, it becomes real. If it becomes real, it goes away."_

The dream was born with Sylvia, but it did not die when she left. That feeling of wanting to hop into the car and drive off somewhere, anywhere, somewhere bigger than their twin-sized bed and their box of a dorm, still stayed with her even after Sylvia surely had Elliot's ring on her finger, and Karen had left North Carolina in the dust. It had just become her test. If she ever caught the eye of another person, she tried to picture what it would be like to run away with them. To stop at a diner in Tucson, smiling at each other over their breakfast. To marvel at the beauty speeding past them as they drove through Santa Fe. To glance over at her love asleep in the passenger seat as she worked her way to the next state line. To never have a plan, to wander aimlessly, to stop when they felt they should stop. To start a life in a place they could truly call their own.

All she knew how to do was run away. It only seemed natural to wonder if those who showed any interest in her could run away, too.

It was that wonder that caused her to keep driving in the two years since she dropped out of college. All she wanted to do was put a face to the person in the passenger seat. But in the two months with Ian in Chicago, she just couldn't see him in that car, and she didn't feel anything when he touched her. And with the ones she met on her way to Pennsylvania-who glanced her way at a bar or a bookstore, who she only knew for a night or two, who didn't stick around long enough for her to learn their name but, if she was being honest, she didn't care enough to ask-it wasn't so much a desire to grasp that dream as it was a desire to not be alone. But when she met Elizabeth in Philadelphia, she thought she finally found it. Karen could see that blonde hair flying in the wind as they drove some unnamed highway with the windows down. She could see that sly smile over a cup of coffee in the hypothetical diner. She could see those soft brown eyes looking over at her when the car finally slowed to a stop, with the realization that they had finally made it, they were home. She held Elizabeth close as she slept, skin against skin, the warmth of her body keeping Karen at peace. This was it. This had to be it.

Until one morning, when Karen woke up and Elizabeth was gone. No note. No explanation. Gone. And Karen got in the car and just kept driving.

She ran out of gas in New York (frankly, she was exhausted, too) and decided to make a go of it in Manhattan. She found a one-room apartment in the East Village, sold the car, and spent her free time in bookstores, picking out paperbacks to fill the empty corners of her studio. And one by one, she would bring those paperbacks to Washington Square Park when the weather was good, relaxing on a bench by the fountain as she read for hours. In a city filled with so many strangers, it made her feel more at home to retreat into these worlds, therapy for the lonely. Stories where young lovers overcome the odds, to show her how it should have been with Sylvia, with Elizabeth, with anyone she wished had bothered to stick around. Stories of heartbreak to show her that she wasn't alone in this. Stories that made her yearn for something permanent.

But in this city full of strangers, Karen was completely taken by the one with the raven black hair and emerald eyes, the one who always seemed to occupy the same spot against the fountain, as though the whole of New York City knew it was hers. She always had the same man by her side; Karen couldn't figure out exactly what he meant to her, but she wished she could be the one to make her laugh like that. Because from the minute Karen first saw her, she saw the car, the diner, the highway. All of it. She couldn't help but steal a few glances whenever she could to keep that image vivid in her mind. Every time she saw her, Karen thought she should go over there, say something, anything. Make an effort. But fear and experience kept her glued to her seat, made her bury her nose in her book every time she thought she got caught looking, waiting for her heartbeat to slow down. It was a routine she could never seem to break.

She knew the weather was about to turn, the full effects of Autumn almost in the air. When she looked towards the fountain and couldn't find her stranger, her heart sank. Soon, it would be too cold to read in the park, to laugh by the fountain; soon, she would have to retreat to the warmth of a coffee shop and would lose track of her dream. She turned her gaze to her book, reading the same sentence over and over without absorbing its message, her mind too fixated on the absence. She had lost track of time when out of the corner of her eye, Karen saw something drop on the bench next to her. She dog-eared her page and picked up the well-worn, well-loved paperback at her side, _Desert of the Heart_ , with a phone number and a note written on the inside cover.

 _Let me know what you think._

 _-Sophie_

Impossible. There was no way she could have known that on Karen's nightstand was her own well-worn, well-loved copy. There was no way she could have known that this was one of her favorites, that Karen turned to those pages during so many sleepless nights. It had to be her. It had to be her stranger. Karen could swear that she felt those eyes on her from time to time, and she hoped to god they carried the same curiosity that hers did. She wasn't quite sure how it could be-she was positive she didn't see her today-but she needed it to be her. Just to give her something that let her know it wasn't one-sided. Karen took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder to find the raven-haired woman smiling back at her before slipping her arm through her friend's and making her exit.

She clutched Sophie's book to her chest. And she knew the dream was still alive and thriving.

* * *

 _1998_

Dreams almost never come to fruition, and Grace knew it. Which is why she couldn't even be surprised when, in the middle of another senseless argument, Danny had blurted out the words she always thought she'd hear by candlelight, or at her favorite spot in the park, or during some ridiculously elaborate dinner that was so far from their routine, she knew something big was about to happen. He blurted out the words she always thought she'd hear from someone-anyone-else. Then again, nothing in their relationship had ever played out like it did in her dreams, so maybe it made sense that this was how it went down. Said in exasperation, as if he just wanted to put an end to the fight, as if he didn't give it a second thought. But then he fished around in his pocket and pulled out a ring box, opened it up before he said it again. _Will you marry me?_

Crazy how you can be on a completely different page and never realize it.

She stood there, frozen, stunned. And immediately she thought of Karen. Why was she thinking of Karen? Nothing really changed from the night of the party, from the weeks of being shut out. They didn't talk about anything outside of work anymore. They didn't talk about that night; out of embarrassment for stepping over the line, she never called back the few times Karen reached out, and Karen never asked about it in the morning. Grace could tell that she was simply going through the motions; her smile didn't have the heart it once did, her words always seemed to fall flat. And all Grace knew to do was blame herself. Because she pushed it, because she didn't give Karen space. Because it turned out she didn't know the first thing about how to talk to her.

Things hadn't gotten better with Karen. And Danny needed an answer. So she said yes.

She picked out the first-admittedly horrible-white dress she could find. She persuaded him to go to City Hall as soon as possible. He was so excited to tell her that he had rented a limousine to make it special, but it honestly didn't matter to her one way or the other. She wanted it over with. The day of the wedding, she stopped by the office with her dress bag in hand, found a Post-It and a pen on Karen's desk and started writing as the dark haired woman walked in. "What are you doing?" She jumped at the voice and turned to see Karen's hazel eyes focused on the dress bag.

"I...I thought I'd be gone before you got back." Grace shifted her gaze to her feet; it was too much to look at her. "I just wanted to let you know that I won't be around today. Danny and I…" The words caught in her throat and she couldn't find her voice, but in the time it would have taken to respond, Karen reached out to unzip the dress bag. Out of the corner of her eye, Grace could see her running her fingers along the white fabric and braced herself for any number of harsh critiques she was certain Karen had instantly cooked up. She was so good at that, it even impressed Grace sometimes. But she heard the dark haired woman zip the bag back up before whispering, "Congratulations." And when Grace finally looked into Karen's eyes, she could swear she saw the same sense of defeat that she felt in her core. It made her want to toss the dress, it made her want to take this woman by the hand and tell her that she wasn't going to go through with it, because there was something better for them, she knew it. Ride off into the sunset. Happily ever after. End of story.

But they don't talk about those things. So Grace rushed out of the office towards an unwanted fate.

She knew Danny was beside her in the limo but she couldn't feel him. She knew he was talking to her and probably expected an answer to whatever it was he was saying, but he sounded like he was a million miles away. She stared straight ahead with her mind focused solely on the look Karen gave her as she left. Maybe it was the final nail in the coffin. Maybe the damage had already been done weeks ago. Maybe she was just projecting. Maybe Karen didn't care. But Grace did. Grace dug herself into a hole she couldn't quite climb back out of. And she knew that if she didn't act soon, she would only dig deeper and deeper until escape became impossible, until she ended up with a marriage like Karen's-less than half the money, but the same heart.

The limo slowed to a stop and she looked at Danny for the first time since they got in. If at one point he had been happy, his smile was long gone and she realized that her eyes couldn't hide how she was feeling. He wasn't a bad guy; if he was, the words would have come a long time ago, and they would have come easy. She just couldn't figure out how to be with him and be happy. Grace took a breath. "Danny, I can't do this," she said softly.

He took her hand, kissed her palm. "I know." The next thing she knew, she was in a cab, fidgeting with the fabric of her dress, headed towards Will. In her best friend's company, she could laugh, she could have a few drinks, she could forget her decisions, forget the consequences. She could pretend. But as she lay in bed, eyes on the ceiling in the blue of the night, she could not get her mind to stop racing. She knew Will was across the hall, and she knew that he would listen if she asked, but how could she possibly begin to explain this? Because Will didn't know how she connected with Karen, how that kiss played constantly in her head, how she wished she could take it back just as much as she wished it could happen again. Will didn't see the things Grace did. Will wouldn't understand.

She needed to get out of here.

Grace got out of bed, threw on a sweatshirt and jeans, and walked out the door. In a different state of mind, she would have been able to stop herself. She would have been able to know a bad idea when she saw one. But her track record lately proved that she welcomed bad ideas with open arms. And when she got to Park Avenue and Karen opened the door to the manse, she seemed hell bent on keeping that streak alive.

"I didn't..." Grace shook her head and sighed. She didn't even go through with it, and she still couldn't say it. She took a breath, tried to take another path. "I couldn't sleep. It's too loud." In her head, in this city, anywhere. God, what was she doing here? There was no way Karen wanted her here, after everything that happened today. But this is where her body took her; she just couldn't help it. It was a mistake. She was about to leave when she felt a gentle touch on her arm.

Without missing a beat, Karen led Grace inside. "So let's go. Let's get out of here," she said as she rummaged through the drawers by the door. "We'll leave New York in our dust. That is, if you trust me."

"I trust you." Grace felt the hint of a smile start to play across her lips as her eyes followed along the staircase leading to the second floor. "What about Stan?"

Karen grabbed a set of keys and motioned for the Grace to follow her out the door. "Honey, does it matter?"

When Stan bought the car a few years ago, Karen was furious. True, it wasn't as if they needed to save money, but between living in Manhattan and paying their trusty chauffeur, she was sure he only bought it just because he could; it was ridiculous. And if she was being honest, the car was a shining, constant reminder of younger days and a version of herself that was so far gone, the only solution was to forget. Now, though, as she climbed into the driver's seat with Grace buckling herself in next to her, she was grateful for the extravagance, and wondered if, when he bought it, her husband ever thought it could one day be her getaway.

They didn't say much of anything during the trip, but they didn't need to. Karen stole glances from time to time, and she could see Grace relaxing into the seat the further away from Manhattan they got. When the radio finally gave way to static, Karen swore she could hear a contented sigh coming from the other seat as Grace turned it off. And when she slowed to a stop at a red light half an hour from their destination, Karen looked over at Grace asleep in the passenger seat, and placed her hand over the redhead's as she waited for the light to turn green.


	8. Midnight Lullaby

" _ **When you are much older,  
**_ _ **Remember when we sat  
**_ _ **At midnight on the windowsill  
**_ _ **And had this little chat."  
**_ _ **-Tom Waits, "Midnight Lullaby"**_

 _1982: Age 23_

 _From the diary of Karen Delaney: "She took me in. She gave me hope. She didn't take it away the first chance she got. She falls asleep next to me, and when I wake up in the morning, she's still there. She is still there. She is home."_

Sophie St. Croix was a name that sounded untouchable to Karen, but as soon as she built up the nerve to dial the phone, she realized that the only walls that were ever put into place were her own. She realized that the man who made Sophie laugh by the Washington Square fountain-the man she was once so jealous of-was her best friend Daniel, who she met during her time in art school and who was as fascinated by the Futurist movement as he was by his boyfriend, Blake. She realized that Sophie had created a family when she had none, and she realized how much she wanted to be a part of it.

What she hadn't anticipated was how much Sophie wanted her to be a part of it, too.

She wasn't used to someone giving so much and asking for nothing. It had been so easy to fall into this, Karen was convinced that it was too good to be true. But she went along with it even though she was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her (don't those things always happen when you least expect it? Maybe if she's always expecting, it won't happen this time). She went along with it as she moved from the park bench to the fountain and learned that she could make Sophie laugh. She found herself more at ease when the the chill in the air was too much and they were huddled over cappuccinos at the corner table of the coffee shop that became their home away from home, swapping life stories and secret dreams. She could push that foreboding to the back of her mind as they walked through bookstores hand in hand, hearing Sophie speak softly with so much enthusiasm over her favorite titles ("Darling, you _have_ to read this, it changed my world."). And it seemed like she could be rid of it for good the first time Sophie led her through the door of the Village townhouse she shared with Daniel and Blake-all thanks to Blake's well-off family-and fully invited her into their world.

Karen's apartment never truly felt like home; it was merely a place to sleep and stay warm during the Winter and store the books on which she spent most of her money. But here, with her love, with the men who quickly became her brothers, she was happy. Here, Sophie read Edna St. Vincent Millay to her as the sun went down. Here, Daniel engaged her in philosophical conversations while he painted. Here, Blake sat down with her at his piano, laughing as they put music to the lyrics they made up after a few too many. Here, she wasn't alone, and she spent so much time here, she couldn't remember when she last spent a full day in her own apartment. One morning, months after she first walked into the townhouse, Karen woke up and saw Sophie smiling next to her, burrowed into the crook of her arm as she sighed. "I don't want to go home," she said, her voice still bogged down with sleep.

Sophie kissed the crown of her head and basked in the warmth of Karen's skin against hers for a moment before she spoke. "Then make this your home." So it is said. So it shall be. It was that easy. Within the week, everything Karen owned was was safe and sound in Greenwich Village.

Within the week, all of the anxiety, and all of the thoughts of this crashing and burning and leaving her alone with the debris of the life she cherished came back tenfold.

The night she officially moved in, Karen was unpacking her clothes when she was blindsided by memories of Massachusetts, of her mother and Gin and the man who was the closest thing to a father that Gin would ever know. Memories of feeling safe, memories of her first love, memories of how Lois destroyed it all in an instant. The house she now lived in, the family she was welcomed into with open arms, suddenly made her feel as though she were thirteen again, and at any minute, she would be throwing her belongings into suitcases with shaking hands and overwhelming sense that she was powerless to control her life. When she put the last of her sweaters in the closet and rejoined civilization, she did her best to hide it all from Sophie and the guys. She smiled when they smiled, looked like she was listening when one of them spoke, and if they sensed something was off, they didn't ask about it.

Karen could hear Sophie's even breathing as she lay wide awake in bed next to her. She looked at the clock presenting two AM to her, and knew she would be in for a long night. Slowly, she got out of bed and closed the door behind her; she didn't want to wake Sophie by tossing and turning, by pacing the floors, by letting her thoughts get too loud. She wandered downstairs and sat down on the windowsill of the bay window in the living room. She looked around the place before pulling her legs to her chest and closed her eyes. _Commit this to memory, Karen. You're going to miss it when it's gone._

"There you are," Sophie said, pulling Karen back into reality. She disappeared from the doorway for a moment, only to return with a bottle of wine and two empty glasses. She saw the look on Karen's face as she handed her a glass before filling it with Cabernet, realizing she had woken up only to make a beeline for the booze. "We're out of tea," she shrugged as Karen let out a short laugh. "What are you doing down here?"

 _Waiting for the other shoe to drop_ , Karen thought. "I couldn't sleep," she said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sophie asked as she sat on the other side of the windowsill.

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever's keeping you up."

Karen started to shake her head, but Sophie's pure smile and the warmth in her eyes were like a truth serum; she knew that as long as she loved Sophie, she could never keep a secret. "I'm not used to this." Karen's voice was all but gone, as if her body refused to put her truth out into the world. "Every time it feels like I have a family, it all falls apart."

"But darling, it's not as though anything has really changed. You spent almost every night here anyway; it's just that now, all your things are here."

"But there's no going back now. I can't just waltz back to my apartment if you change your mind. There's so much to lose if this doesn't work. This is big. This is dangerous."

"Of course it's dangerous. Life is one gigantic, dangerous, unstable mess, and the only way we can thrive is to find the people who make it feel a little more solid. And the only way to find them is to take a risk or two. Karen, I love you. I'm not trying to trick you. My mind is set. I want this-I want you-more than I've wanted anything in my life. And I will do everything in my power to make you see that I won't be the one who hurts you. You can trust me."

Karen closed her eyes to ward off the tears and tried to commit Sophie's words to memory, to play in her mind whenever she needed to hear it. "I love you, too. I want this to work so much."

Sophie set her glass down on the floor and tucked a lock of Karen's hair behind her ear before leading her towards her lips. "So give it a chance," she murmured. She could feel Karen relax against her skin, bring her in closer as they kissed. And as they pulled away, she looked into Karen's darkly beautiful eyes and smiled, whispering as if the whole world was trying to listen to what she only wanted her love to hear.

"Let me show you how wonderful family can be."

* * *

 _1998_

Grace slowly opened her eyes and let the bedroom come into focus, the sun flooding the room through the windows. Surrounded by sheets that were not hers, in a room that was not hers, it took her a moment to remember the way she led herself to Karen's door, the way Karen drove them through the night to her cabin in Vermont. They barely said a word when they got here-Karen led her to a bedroom and showed her where she'd be if she needed anything-and as much as Grace wanted to break down the wall between them, she had to admit that she was grateful for the space. She knew she needed time to sort the jumble of thoughts in her head, and she didn't want to drag Karen into that mess.

But as she looked over at the alarm clock shouting 12:30, she realized that her mind was just as jumbled as it was last night, and she felt just as lost. She let out a yawn and saw Karen at the doorway. How she could look so collected, so beautiful when last night felt so ugly, Grace would never know. She caught herself staring and quickly averted her gaze as she let out a quick, "Hi."

"Morning, honey," she said softly as she made her way towards Grace and handed off a mug. "Or...afternoon. I hope you slept well."

The redhead looked at the offering. "Since when do you know how to make coffee?"

"Grace, I'm an incompetent assistant, not a helpless one. I do know my way around a coffee maker." Karen sat down at the foot of the bed. "By the way, I called the client you were supposed to meet with today." She put on the most professional air she could. "'Ms. Adler is sorry to postpone your meeting, but will be happy to reschedule for a later date.'" She could see Grace hide a smile in her hand and had to smile herself; she knew she sounded ridiculous. "Hey, you get what you pay for."

Grace took a sip of her coffee and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you're more competent than you think." Karen laughed, and Grace could feel it throughout her body.

"Do you want to talk about last night?" Karen asked.

The redhead shrugged. "Maybe later. I think I still need to process it all." Karen nodded, knowing not to push it any further. Grace tried to change the subject. "How long are we staying here?"

"As long as you want. I just wanted you to have some peace and quiet." Karen stood up, started making her way towards the door. "There are some clothes in the closet from a lifetime ago that should fit you. I'll be here if you feel like talking this through. And I'll be here if you don't."

"Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

The dark haired woman stopped and turned to face her. "Honey, I was never mad at you," she said before she walked out of the room.

 _How does she do that?_ Grace asked herself as she made her way to the closet. _How can she keep her head above water when I feel like I'm drowning?_ The redhead opened the doors to reveal oversized sweaters, jeans, things she could never in a million years picture Karen Walker putting on her body. She ran her fingers along each article of clothing to make sure she wasn't imagining it, before picking out an outfit for herself. Perhaps it was foolish of her to assume that Karen had always been the Prada-clad socialite she was now. But between the clothes in the closet and the beat-up paperback resting on the nightstand-Grace had started flipping through _Desert of the Heart_ when she couldn't sleep, wondering what would happen next in the story, wondering who Sophie was and what she meant to Karen-it became glaringly obvious that there was so much to the dark haired woman that she didn't know. And she wanted so desperately to be invited in.

But she knew that first, she would have to face the things she just ran away from, and she wasn't ready for that just yet. So Grace kept quiet during the day, wandering the rooms of Karen's cabin, hoping to learn a little more about the dark haired woman who whisked her away, but realizing she wouldn't know how to begin fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. She read the book in her bedroom, so worn that she hoped she wouldn't damage it further by turning its pages one more time. She scavenged for something to eat in the refrigerator around dinner time before retreating back to the bedroom. And the whole time, Karen never pushed the subject, never asked her to speak. Karen did her own thing, gave Grace space, and it helped for a little while. It gave her time. Then suddenly, Grace hated the time. Suddenly, Grace didn't want the space anymore.

Suddenly, she felt so lonely. Suddenly, all she wanted was to hear Karen's voice.

Around midnight, Grace walked downstairs to find the lights dimmed and candles lit, Karen sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She froze where she was for a moment, certain she would be disrupting the peace if she moved any further. She watched as the dark haired woman brought the glass to her lips, lost in thought. She wished she knew what occupied her mind like that. She wished she could look into those eyes and unlock the world she wanted so badly to understand. She wished she could command her attention and get to the point, figure out the words that would bring them together and then make it so.

But she was always wishing for things she could never have, and instead, she broke the silence and said, "I never thanked you for bringing me here."

Karen met Grace's gaze. She pointed towards the small bar she kept and said, "Grab a glass" before she took a final drag off of her cigarette. As the redhead took a seat next to her, Karen took the wine glass out of her hand and poured from the bottle of Cabernet that was resting at her feet. "I like to come here when the world gets to be too much. Stan hates making the trip, so it's the only space I have that's truly mine. There's no one around; I can hear myself think. I can take a break. It just seemed like you needed one, too."

"I don't know what I was thinking, really. I was never going to marry him. I never saw that as part of the plan. Maybe that should have been my cue to exit. I shouldn't have let it get that far."

"Well, then why did you?"

As much as she grew to despise time, Grace sipped her wine to buy a little more of it. "I...I don't know." _Start with a lie, excellent work, Grace._ "Because he asked, and I wasn't sure if that question would ever come my way again." _Nope. Try again._ "Because I thought I could make it work even if my heart wasn't totally in it." _Maybe, but not quite._ "Because I thought I completely lost you, and I thought I could distract myself from thinking about the way I felt when I kissed you." _Bingo._

"Honey…"

"I don't understand what you do to me," she murmured. "I just know I don't want it to stop."

Karen could have told her that she felt the same way, and that it scared the hell out of her. She could have told her that she'd drive them to the ends of the earth if it shielded Grace from the bad things in the world. She could have told her the last few weeks of cold shoulders and sad glances all but killed her, and she'd give anything to take it back. Instead, her voice cracked as she said, "You're dangerous, Gracie."

The redhead furrowed her brow for a moment and let a half-smile play across her lips. "I thought you liked me," she said.

Karen let out her breath, surprised that she was holding it in to begin with. "I do." She looked down at her glass as she ran her finger around the rim. "That's why you're dangerous."

Grace set her glass down on the coffee table and placed her hand over Karen's. "I wish there was a way to show you that I won't hurt you."

The dark haired woman let out a little laugh. Sometimes, she couldn't believe how pure-hearted Grace seemed to be. And that was the terrifying thing. Because everyone who swore they would never hurt her seemed pure-hearted at the start. And eventually, they were shown to be liars. Grace, though...Grace could be different. Grace felt different. Or maybe she just wanted Grace to be different. "Nobody can promise that," she said. "Besides, you shouldn't want this. I'm married. You deserve more."

When Grace pulled Karen into her arms, she expected her to resist. And when she felt Karen relax against her body, when she felt Karen's arms slide around her waist, she almost pulled away out of shock. To simply be close to her was overwhelming, and she struggled to find her voice before she said, "When will you realize that you deserve more, too?"

Karen pulled away, stunned. She wanted to tell Grace that it wasn't that easy, that she had tried for more so many times and came away each time with less. She wanted to tell her that it was easier to learn to accept what you have, to learn to live with it. But she looked into those eyes, eyes that held compassion and concern and, god help her, hope. And she wanted to bask in that light as long as she possibly could. She fixed a smile on her face and asked, "Will you stay with me for a little while?"

The grin that escaped Grace's lips as she refilled their wine was answer enough. They toasted, they settled back into the couch side by side, and as she listened to the redhead comment on the Cabernet, Karen found herself leaning in, and resting her head on Grace's shoulder. _Remember this_ , she thought. _No matter what happens next, remember that you had this._

They talked, about nothing in particular, long into the night.


	9. You Are Not My First Love

" _ **My heart is secondhand, yes  
**_ _ **My heart is secondhand  
**_ _ **You won't mind the scratches  
**_ _ **You can hardly see the patches  
**_ _ **Now you know the worst, love  
**_ _ **Yes, I've had a past  
**_ _ **Though you may not be my first love  
**_ _ **You may be the first to last."  
**_ _ **-Judy Henske, "You Are Not My First Love"**_

 _1982: Age 23_

 _From the diary of Karen St. Croix: "We'll find a way." She said it every time she talked about it, like it was no big deal to work our way around the system. Then again, she's always so casually confident. And she's always right. We found a way. It may not count in anyone's eyes but our own, but we're the ones who count. She gave me her name and she gave me a ring. We found a way._

She was shocked by how easy it had been. Sophie made it seem so simple when she first brought it up. Too simple. Like there weren't a million different obstacles standing in their way. It seemed like those conversations she used to have in bed with Sylvia, dreams that would never come true but felt like they could, in that moment. Sophie would smile and brush a lock of Karen's hair behind her ear and talk about happily ever after over their morning cup of coffee, on the bench in Washington Square, before they fell asleep. Sometimes she would regale Karen of an elaborate extravaganza of bells and roses and altars and a train of people walking down the aisle to a song they spent weeks picking out, simply to surround two people in love as they make promises in front of a sea of people they barely knew. All because she knew it would make her laugh; pick the tradition that fit them the least and build on the cliches. But most times, she would talk of a quiet exchange in front of the only family that counted to them. It didn't matter where. For all Sophie cared, it could be in their bathroom. Just as long as, by the end of it, Karen's ring was on her finger and they sealed it with a kiss. Such a deceptively simple dream.

"There's no way we could do it," Karen would say every time, coming down from a laugh to mask just how out of reach she thought it was. It was a fairytale; that's all it could ever be. "It doesn't count to anyone else."

But Sophie would always cup her face with her hands, kiss her forehead, and whisper in her ear. "Darling, we're the only ones who matter. We'll find a way."

And they did.

Sophie had wanted to get to work all of the parts of this plan, but Karen was stubborn and-if she was being completely honest-a little scared that if they got everything together before her name was changed, she would jinx it. More than anything else in this, she wanted the name; she loved the deepened promise between them, but she wanted the name. She wanted to give her voice to it and hear proof that she and Sophie were connected. She wanted the one thing the law could give her, and she was so worried that they would take one look at her and know she was planning to skirt the system, deny her and move on. Cover your eyes against the worst case scenario, because if you can't see it, it won't be real. But when she took a peek over her fingers, she found that she became Karen St. Croix. Just like that.

The rest fell into place quickly after. Dresses on a budget. Bodega flowers. Despite their protests, Blake insisted on paying for the rings as an early gift. "It's the one thing you shouldn't skimp on," he said as he put his foot down. And before they knew it, they were underneath the Washington Square arch at sunset, promising their lives to each other while Daniel and Blake looked on. There must have been passersby, but Karen couldn't feel them. They weren't real. She and Sophie spoke in hushed voices as Daniel captured the scene with his camera; as far as anyone else knew, the art kids were having another photoshoot in the park. As far as Karen was concerned, they were the only people in New York. She watched Sophie slip the ring on her finger, tried to steady her hands as she returned the gesture. Sealed with a kiss. They found a way.

Karen and Sophie celebrated with their family long into the night, with intoxicated songs by the piano and toast after toast after toast with the seemingly endless supply of champagne the boys procured. The room got warmer, her voice got louder. She could feel the bubbles going to her head as she danced with Sophie, and she wouldn't have traded this for anything. Eventually, Daniel dragged Blake upstairs to their bedroom, to give the girls time alone. Sophie turned the poems she knew by heart into songs as Karen held on to her a little tighter and swayed to the music spilling from her love's lips. And when the final bottle of champagne was on its last legs, Karen led Sophie up the stairs to their bedroom, clinging to the neck of the bottle with one hand and Sophie's hand with the other. She heard the floorboards creak under Sophie's feet and the bedsprings give under her weight as she let her dress fall to the floor. She took a swig of champagne as she made her way to the bed, taking in the way Sophie beamed at her in the moonlight.

"What are you so smiley about?" Karen asked as she climbed into bed and set the bottle on the nightstand.

Sophie shook her head. "Nothing, I was just thinking...I can't believe it took me so long to give you my book." She saw the surprised look on Karen's face and laughed. "I saw you the first time you came to the park. Putting your hair up and opening that tattered copy of _The Brothers Karamazov_ like you had something to prove. And I was so gone. It took me so long to muster the nerve to slip that book to you. You seemed untouchable."

Karen's smile started to play across her face. "Soph...I love you, but you have got to be kidding me." Sophie's champagne giggle was contagious, and Karen tried so hard to contain herself. "I'm serious!" she said as she nudged her love "I saw you the first time I came to the park. And you paralyzed me because you seemed so sure of yourself. I wanted to get close to you so badly, but I knew I could never match your confidence. And the city was so new and I didn't know who to be. _You_ were untouchable. _I_ was lonely. You threw me a lifeline when you slipped me that book." She looked at Sophie, saw the promise of the road ahead in her eyes, and rested her forehead against her love's. "I've been burned so many times that I almost missed you entirely," she whispered. She could feel Sophie's arms tighten around her. "Plus...there was all that time I thought Daniel was your boyfriend."

Silence. And then...

Sophie burst into a laughter so good natured and full that Karen felt surrounded by it. She gave her a shush broken by her own silent laughter in an effort not to wake the boys. "Honestly?" Sophie asked as she settled. "Oh, darling...that's just terrifying."

Karen smiled as her lips met Sophie's. "I was reading _The Brothers Karamazov_ because I liked it, by the way," she whispered as she pulled away.

"I wouldn't have let you miss me, by the way." Karen was never one for that kind of grand statement, but god, in that moment, she believed it. Sophie pulled her close and tightened her hold-skin against skin, warmth against warmth-as she rolled Karen onto her back, hovering over her for a moment before her kiss traveled the lengths of Karen's body, before she felt Karen thrill to her touch as her fingers rode her curves.

Just before the sun came up, Karen curled herself up in the crook of Sophie's arm. She ran her thumb around her ring and felt her wife's breathing even out into sleep. She tried to keep herself awake to be in this moment as long as she could.

Karen was wholly at peace. It was hard to remember a time before Sophie when she felt like this.

* * *

 _1998_

She was shocked by how easy it had been. Grace made it seem so simple the next morning. Too simple. Like she hadn't just taken Karen's hand and pulled her to the edge the night before. Like it was just another day. Like it was completely normal for her to open their lives up to terrifying possibility one moment and just as easily slide a cup of coffee across the table and smirk that she put Bailey's in it the next. The redhead made it feel as though they already had a routine after twenty-four hours of living together, like they had been doing these things for years. Quiet conversation in the morning, going into town for supplies, wine by the fire at night. Grace brushing against Karen on her way to the kitchen and Karen hoping she could feel her lean into it. Inching over the edge without falling. Wondering what it would be like to jump.

Karen was wholly at peace. It was hard to remember a time after Sophie when she felt like this. But the second she named this feeling, she froze. Nothing this easy stays this easy. Nothing this easy ever lasts.

If she learned anything from her mother, it was how to give a good poker face. And if Grace suspected something was wrong with the dark haired woman, she never said it. Karen responded when the redhead spoke, and what came out of her mouth sounded like it made sense, but if she was being completely honest, her own thoughts drowned out any conversation Grace was trying to make. How did she get here? How did whiskey and beer with a stranger in the Village turn into something-someone-that overwhelmed her senses when she least expected it? She had been nostalgic for her younger days, and now she was paying the price. If she had missed that damn want ad in the paper, she could have had her night with Grace and left it at that; that image of her red curls basking in the neon light of the bar and the smile in her eyes as she polished off her pint could have kept Karen company without posing a threat. If she had just sucked it up and went home that night instead of venturing downtown, she could have had a blank slate when she walked into Grace Adler Designs. They could have been professional. They could have been friends. She could have continued walking through life with the numbness she had grown so accustomed to.

She wouldn't be here, hating herself for falling so fast, for pushing Grace away without ever explaining herself, for treating her so horribly when she only gave compassion and warmth.

And that might be the hardest part of all of this, the ease Grace had of carrying on while they linger on the edge, while Karen neglected to give her reasons after weeks of cold shoulders, snide comments, and arm's lengths. The redhead never brought it up, never asked why; she poured her heart out to Karen last night and never asked for the same in return. She was patient in a way Karen hadn't experienced in so long. And she knew it wasn't fair to Grace. She gave Karen sanctuary and someone who listens, and Karen couldn't remember the first thing about how to handle that. She realized that, if she explained herself, Grace would probably understand. Putting a voice to it was so tempting. Making it real was so tempting. She knew what making it real meant in the past, and she knew how it ended. Every time she looked into Grace's eyes, though, she thought she saw something different. And she wanted to be part of it.

But which was worse: giving her heart what it wants and waiting for the inevitable, or the physical hurt that came with being so close to Grace but never touching her? It was a tough call.

She tried to sleep when she heard the redhead's door close for the night, but her mind was in overdrive. Stare at the ceiling, stare at the clock, force her eyes shut for a few merciful seconds, repeat. Throw in a few questions that were impossible to answer, toss, turn, feel as though she's splitting in two. At 2:30, she couldn't take it anymore, and made her way to Grace's door, the light from the hallway pouring into the room and waking the redhead from her slumber.

"Karen?" Grace's voice was bogged down by sleep as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Are you okay?"

The dark haired woman shook her head as she climbed into the other side of the bed and, in one swift motion, guided the redhead's lips to her own. She felt Grace respond, the lingering scent of her perfume going to her head, and for a moment, her mind quieted and she forgot her old objections, almost forgot the reason she woke Grace up in the first place when she felt the redhead's arms start to wrap around her waist. Toeing the edge in that moment, it felt safe to jump. It felt easy to jump. She could have, too, if it weren't for that unending chorus softly chanting in her mind. _Nothing this easy ever stays this easy. Nothing this easy ever lasts._ She broke the kiss and studied the smile playing across Grace's face.

"Hi," Grace whispered like they could just start from this point, like it could always be like this. Like Karen wouldn't have to explain herself.

"Gracie…" her voice faltered as she tried to form the words. "I...I can't believe I treated you the way I did these last few weeks. Honey, I'm so sorry."

"Kare, it's okay, we're past that."

"No. We're not." She sighed before she spoke again, staring at her hands like that would keep Grace's gaze from piercing her being, trying to figure out how to put words to the chaotic mess she harbors inside her. "When I start to feel loved, I pull away." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Grace take a breath to speak and raised a hand to stop her. "I can't help it. I don't want to. It's just that I've thought I had it so many times, and then it was taken away, or it was never there to begin with and I was deluding myself into thinking it was in my reach. And it's happened too much for me to ever want to chance it again."

She was silent for a moment, letting her words settle into the air. She wasn't sure if she wanted Grace to say something or not, but she wanted some sort of sign. And as though she could read Karen's mind, the redhead slid her hands over Karen's, her hold strong and secure.

"I think you could be different," Karen said, finally looking Grace in the eye. "But I don't want you waiting around for a version of me that doesn't exist anymore. God, fifteen years ago, it would have been so easy to let myself dive in, but now-"

"Karen." Grace squeezed her hands before she brought them to her lips. "The version of you I know is right in front of me. And it's the only version I want. The version that wears Chanel to sip whiskey in dive bars and drops everything to give me an ounce of peace. The version that sucks at hiding the hint of hope she has behind that jaded air." She saw Karen try to suppress her laugh and smiled. "I'm not going to pretend like I know what you've been through before I met you. There are sides of you I haven't seen yet. Maybe one day you'll let me in on all of that. Maybe you won't. I hope one day, you'll trust me enough to carry this with you. But I'm not going to force you to go somewhere you don't want to go. Either way, I'm going to be right here. Whenever you're ready."

In that moment, Karen had such an overwhelming flash of Sophie, she had to work to keep the tears in. Finding someone who wanted to be with her instead of wanting to mold her felt like lightning in a bottle. When she lost Sophie, she lost everything she knew, everything that made her feel safe. And as she made her way through the years and through hollow relationship after hollow relationship, she hardened, revealing just enough about herself to make them think they knew her before she gave in and rode their expectations of her to the end of their time together. Then Grace sneaked in through the cracks and derailed her entire system. It would take time to be convinced that this was a good thing, to feel for someone so completely again, to feel so vividly again. But there was patience in Grace's touch and mercy in her voice.

It made her want to try.

Grace ran her fingers through Karen's hair in the silence when the dark haired woman lay down on the bed. "Stay with me tonight," she whispered. As much as she wanted to say yes, Karen couldn't find her voice, and nodded as the redhead pulled the covers over the two of them. She felt her mind settling, the chaos starting to untangle, her world becoming a little more peaceful.

She curled up in the crook of Grace's arm, listening to the redhead's breathing even out into sleep as she closed her eyes to finally get some rest.


	10. About Today

" _ **Hey, are you awake?  
**_ _ **Yeah, I'm right here.  
**_ _ **Well, can I ask you about today?  
**_ _ **How close am I to losing you?  
**_ _ **How close am I to losing..."  
**_ _ **-The National, "About Today"**_

 _1983: Age 24_

 _From the diary of Karen St. Croix: "Most days, she can quell my mind, because she's here. She was here yesterday, she was here the day, the week, the month before. She's here now. She says she'll be here tomorrow. She hasn't lied yet. But some days, I think about the path that led me here, and the things that it taught me. And I wait."_

She was swallowed up in a burst of light, and then she was gone. But Karen could hear her voice calling, echoing through their house, so she couldn't have gone very far. Karen climbed the stairs, following the sound of Sophie to the bedroom, but when she got to their door, she was nowhere to be found. She called out to her love, hoping for the next clue, to no avail. But Sophie had to be here somewhere. Karen checked the rest of the rooms before making her way back downstairs, but where the living room once was, a cold, empty, unfamiliar space now stood. Where the hell was she? "Soph?" she shouted, and it unnerved her that the echoes she was once following had given way to heavy silence. She quickened her pace through the never-ending building, scrambling through doors leading to new wings, staircases leading higher and higher to floors that couldn't possibly inhabit her home. This couldn't be home. She had no idea where she ended up; she just knew she had to get out now. But not without Sophie. Karen kept screaming her name and only getting her own echo as a response. The doors she opened spilled her into strange places; staircases confusingly just led her to where she started moments before. Finally, she found a door with the city shining through its window. If Sophie was nowhere inside, she had to have escaped already. She had to be waiting for Karen. Karen raced to her exit only to find that it was locked. She pulled with all of her strength at the door handle as she found it harder and harder to breathe. Looking over her shoulder, she watched in horror as the walls started to race toward her. She frantically clawed at the door, a futile effort as she felt the walls gaining ground, moving closer, closer, closer...

Karen woke with a gasp as she sat up in bed. She clutched her chest to feel her heart race and tried to slow her breathing. When she looked next to her, she found Sophie fast asleep, hair tousled from the way she always slides into the most comfortable spot on her pillow, oblivious to the war Karen's subconscious had just waged on her. Karen brushed her hair back and leaned over her wife, placed her hand on her shoulder to steady herself as she bent down to Sophie's ear. "Soph?" she whispered. "Soph, wake up." When she couldn't get a response, she slowly climbed out of bed, grabbed the pack of cigarettes off of the nightstand and made her way downstairs, careful to step over the creaky floorboard.

She found one of Blake's lighters in the kitchen and watched it glow for a moment before she put her cigarette to the flame. She paced around the living room as she took a couple drags to calm herself, before settling on the piano bench with a sigh. The dreams started about a month ago, when Sophie told her about the writing retreat on the west coast, about how she thought it could finally break her slump and put her back on track. And Karen saw the light shining in her eyes as she talked about it and was genuinely excited for her. Which made the dream she had that night all the more terrifying. It would come back to her after a few nights when it had no reason to; with all of the travel plans, all of Sophie's talk of finally unlocking the verses from her mind, Karen's subconscious would only go to the dark places when they made no mention of the trip. Then a week before Sophie was to fly to California, the dream crept into her head every night, keeping her up, throwing her mind into overdrive. She knew there was nothing to worry about. She knew that Sophie would come back and tell her about the writers she met, show off her latest work, and Karen would be so proud of her.

And yet, she couldn't shake this feeling.

Karen drew her cigarette to her lips and with her free hand, brushed against the keys of the piano. She let her finger slide along the ivory keys until she stopped at random and pressed down. She kept traveling the keys, trying to give her mind a break from her nightmares by piecing together a quiet song. And it worked for a moment, as she slowly became invested in the act, picking the next key, hearing what the next note sounds like. She let the last note ring out before her fingers left the keys and settled in her lap. From behind her, a voice softly brought her back to reality.

"Encore," Sophie murmured as Karen turned around. She smiled when her eyes met Karen's, and as she stretched out her body to wake herself up, Karen saw the bird in an open cage tattooed on her wife's hip peeking out from her nightshirt and, for a second, basked in the memory-watching in wonder as Sophie calmly welcomed the tattoo needle without flinching once, feeling that secure hold on her hand when it was her turn, and her love's initial was drawn on her skin, just under her ribcage. Sophie grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the top of the piano and lit one as Karen slid down the bench to make room for her. "Darling, what in the world are you doing down here?" she asked as she sat down.

Karen shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," she said.

"You couldn't sleep last night either. Or the night before, or the one before that. You don't think I feel when you're not next to me?" Sophie nudged Karen into a small smile. "What's going on, Karen?"

In a few hours, Karen would help Sophie with her bags, squeeze into the back seat of a cab that would take them to the airport, and see her off as she went on her way to creative epiphany. She would only speak to Karen through the staticky long distance connection, and the nightmares and sleepless nights wouldn't matter. And she didn't want the nightmares and sleepless nights to matter now. She didn't want the short amount of time they had left to be filled with the things that caused her so much unease. "I don't know," she finally answered. "I guess I'm just trying to get used to you not being around."

She knew Sophie could see right through that, and loved her for not pressing the matter further. Instead, she slid her hand to the small of Karen's back and said, "You could come with me. We could get you a plane ticket. I know there's still a spot left at the retreat."

For a fleeting moment, Karen was set on saying yes. Embarking on that trip together, unlocking the words trapped in Sophie's mind together. Leaving together, coming back together. Making sure their bond sticks together. But she knew that if she followed Sophie on this journey, she would be letting her senseless paranoia win. "You're sweet," she said as she shook her head. "But this is your thing. You should have this." She managed a smile, played up the dramatics, swept the back of her hand up to her forehead, and said, "I'll just have to carry on somehow."

Sophie laughed as she pressed her lips against Karen's. "It's just for a week," she whispered. "I'll be back here in no time. I promise." Sophie took her by the hand. "Come back to bed. Try to get some sleep." Karen followed her upstairs to their room and fell asleep with her arms around Sophie's body.

When the sun came up, they grabbed the luggage and hailed a cab. Karen savored the weight of Sophie in her arms on the quiet ride to the airport. They rambled on about nothing as they waited for Sophie's flight to start boarding, and when they announced the flight, Karen felt it throughout her body. "Call me when you get there," she said as she walked Sophie to the gate.

"The second I land," Sophie replied. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Karen murmured as she pulled her in for a kiss. She watched Sophie board and waited until the plane took off before heading back home.

In the future, when Karen would look back on that morning, she'd wish she would have known it was the farewell kiss. She would have made it last a little longer.

* * *

 _1998_

"Where the hell have you been?!"

Grace froze in the doorway, wearing the same sweatshirt and jeans she wore when she made her escape like that would erase any suspicion. She realized as she put them on this morning that it was stupid; she still left in the middle of the night while he was sleeping, and he couldn't know what she wore that night. But coming home in clothes she borrowed from Karen...he didn't know that part of the dark haired woman, but that felt like an admission of guilt she couldn't run away from. She stared at the enraged version of Will that was standing in front of her, thankful for having shut the door to give them privacy before he decided to go in on her. He stood there, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation. And she wasn't sure if it was his insistence on settling this the second she got home, or her annoyance that he extinguished the peacefully warm feeling she felt with Karen just moments earlier with ice-perhaps it was a combination of the two-but something sparked a mini rebellion inside her. "It's good to see you too, Dad," she quipped as she threw her keys into the bowl on the coffee table.

"Don't pull this, Grace, I haven't heard anything from you in two days!"

"I called you!"

"Yeah, great message, by the way. 'Hey, Will. I'm fine, I just needed to get out of the city, I'll see you soon.' Come on."

"Look, I just needed some space to think about things, I didn't realize that was a crime."

"That is not the point, and you know it." Will ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Grace, if we're going to do this, if we're really going to live together, we have to keep each other in the loop. I know you're going through a rough time right now, and I get it if you're not ready to talk about what happened with Danny. But I just need you to give me some kind of clue where you are. I mean, you didn't even leave me a phone number."

Grace shifted her gaze down at her feet. "I wasn't really sure where I was going at first." Well. She knew where she was going at first. She just didn't know where Karen would lead her. "When I got there, I honestly wasn't thinking about leaving contact information with you when I called." No, when she got there, her thoughts started lingering on the woman who whisked her away to solace. "Will, I'm sorry I worried you. I'm in a really weird headspace right now. Can we...can we just come back to this when I've settled a little?"

Will seemed to soften a bit. He motioned towards the dining table. "Come on," he said softly. "I just made dinner." He grabbed a couple wine glasses and a bottle, poured a drink for the two of them. Grace sat down as he slid a plate in front of her and took the seat next to her. They made it through most of dinner in silence, nothing but the scrape of utensils against china ringing in their ears. She kept glancing Will's way, wondering how she could bridge the gap without exposing too much. But what was she supposed to say? _So, remember my assistant? You know, the one you think is crazy and out of touch? Well, it turns out she's a lot more than you make her out to be sometimes. And I think I'm in love with her._ No. She wasn't ready to put all of this out there yet. Not so fast. Not like that. Not when she and Karen aren't even completely sure of what they're doing. Instead, she cleared her throat and posed a question she didn't really care about.

"Did Danny call while I was gone?"

"No. Did you think he would?"

"I don't know. I should probably give him an explanation. If he even wants one."

Will finally met Grace's gaze, and she knew he wanted to ask so much. She could feel his mind at work, sifting through his mess of questions until he found one that wouldn't cause too many waves. "Where did you end up?" he finally said.

Grace shrugged. "I found a place out of town to stay for a couple days. It was quiet. I felt like I could breathe."

"You were alone?"

The redhead grew wide-eyed as Will looked back down at his plate. _How_ does he do that? How does he know what to zero in on? Just as he knew her well, she knew him. She knew that he was trying to piece together why she would so abruptly run out on Danny-why she would have agreed to marry him in the first place-and she knew the path he took in his answer. She knew he suspected there was someone else, perhaps some guy with dark hair and dark eyes who was a little more mature and a better fit in her world. She almost laughed at the assumption. But she was thankful that he wasn't looking at her; it made it easier to lie. "Yeah. I was alone." She just needed a little time to figure out how to tell him. She needed time to figure out what she's doing.

As if on cue, the phone rang to make a liar out of her. _Dammit_ , she thought as Will waved it off and said, "Let the answering machine get it." In the midst of saving face with her roommate, Grace completely forgot about Karen taking her hand as she opened the car door and murmuring with an unmistakable light in her eyes, "I'll call you tonight" before the redhead walked into her building. It had to be her now; Grace felt it in her bones. She felt each ring in her core. If Karen said a word on that answering machine…

"Hi. We're not in. Leave a message at the tone."

Silence, and then a click. Grace let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding as Will said, "Must have been a wrong number."

Grace held her wine glass to her lips. "Must have been," she said to herself as she took a sip.

On the other end of the line, Karen hung up the phone and sighed. She realized she probably should have waited to call Grace. She realized Will probably had some questions for her, and she realized that Grace probably wouldn't be able to get away for a while. But she couldn't help herself. She wanted to hear the redhead's voice wrap around her name. She wanted the conversation that would ease her into the night. She wanted to know that she didn't dream it.

But most of all, the loneliness swallowed her up the second she walked through the manse's door, and she craved a touch of the feeling she had at the cabin.

She came home from dropping Grace off, and couldn't tell if everyone was just in another part of the house, or if the place was really this empty. She lost count a long time ago of how many times this dilemma crossed her mind, of how many times she wondered why they needed this much space, of how many times she wondered how long it would take Stan to finally find her reading in the library or having a drink in the den, or if he even cared to look. It didn't faze her anymore; it came with the territory. She threw Stan's car keys back in the drawer she swiped them from and made her way to the kitchen to fix herself a martini. She lingered, absently swirling the olives around in her glass, before mustering the courage to head upstairs. No sign of Stan in the bedroom as she changed into her nightgown. If she wanted to, she could climb into bed with her nightcap and have that be the end of it. But tonight, curiosity dominated her mind. She hated when that happened.

With her half-empty glass in hand, Karen softly moved from the bedroom to the light peeking from the doorway to Stan's office. His door was open just a crack, and she could see him at his desk, reading glasses on, pen in hand as he led it along the lines of whatever the hell it was he was reading. Years ago, she might have looked in on this and tried to connect. At one point, they had been friends. When they met, she had suffered more loss than she cared to recall, and he had seen his fair share as well; he got where she was coming from, and that was more than she could say about most people. She couldn't tell you that she was ever in love with him; it was more of a fondness in the early days, but it was better than she had in years. She wasn't really sure when it all had changed. They eased into this marriage slowly, and just as slowly eased out of it. Everything blended together. Nothing stood out about them anymore.

Although, she wasn't entirely sure that anything stood out about them to begin with.

Karen pushed the door open so that it wouldn't creak and stood in the doorway. She waited for him to look up from his work, realized she could be waiting for a while and for a second wished she would have taken time to freshen up her drink before playing this game. She slid the last olive off the cocktail stick and into her mouth, sighed once she finished the last of her martini. A few moments later, Stan finally looked her way, taking in her nightgown and her empty glass. "You're off to bed already?" he asked. "It's early." His focus returned to his work, just like that. It was impressive, really, his penchant for dismissal.

She should be surprised that he asked the wrong question, but a small part of her still registered the shock. No "Where did you go?" No "Why didn't you call?" None of the questions you'd probably hear if you walked into a certain redhead's apartment on Riverside Drive. Nothing to tell her that he cared that she left for two days without notice. Maybe he didn't care. Hell, maybe he didn't even notice. If she was being completely honest, the latter wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility. She waited for a moment to see if he would lock eyes with her again. When he didn't, she said, "I'm tired. It's been a long day."

He nodded as he crossed something out on the paper in front of him, and she realized that was her cue to exit.

She went back for a refill before heading to her bedroom for the night. She was hoping for one of Stan's all-nighters so she wouldn't have to share the bed she just climbed into. Last night, she was sharing a bed with Grace, all the safety and warmth in the world surrounding them in that room. When she woke up this morning, Grace was still asleep, but her hold on Karen was just as strong as it was when the dark haired woman closed her eyes. She had reached to kiss Grace's cheek and saw the redhead open her eyes with a smile before drawing Karen's lips to hers. Now, she looked around this dark, vast room, silently begging for the company she had earlier, instead of the company she was stuck with.

As if she had summoned her, the phone on the nightstand started ringing. She took a breath, not wanting to seem too eager, before she picked up. "Hello?"

"Karen?" The redhead was quiet, but she was there.

"Gracie." She couldn't help but smile. She knew that the last two days were for Grace, to help her process things and give her room to breathe. But she would be lying if she said that getaway didn't help her, too. To be with someone who was patient with her, who offered a hand when everything felt too complicated to put on another person, who made her want to take a risk...she had forgotten how wonderful that felt. She was still wary of it all, but she was starting to see the light through the cracks. "I didn't mean to call so early."

"I figured that was you. Listen, I don't know how long I've got. Will's in the shower. He read me the riot act the second I got in, I don't want to give him any more fuel."

"What did you tell him?"

"I didn't really say anything about it. I just...how do I even begin to explain this to him?"

Well...she had Karen there.

"Honey, you don't have to say anything to him yet, if you don't want to."

"He knows I'm keeping something from him. He _always_ knows when I keep things from him. God, I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I was so selfish. I should have just let him give his advice like he always does, and that would have been that."

 _But we wouldn't have gotten so close_ , Karen wanted to say. _We wouldn't have jumped over the hurdle. I wouldn't have kissed you. You wouldn't have held me. Would that have honestly been better?_ But she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to that. Instead, she said, "I'm sure it'll blow over in the morning."

"Maybe," Grace replied, but Karen could tell she wasn't sure of it.

"I don't want to keep you, honey. Just try to get some sleep, okay? We can figure it out tomorrow."

"I guess you're right," Grace said with a sigh. "I'll see you at work. Goodnight, Kare."

"Goodnight, Gracie."

As she hung up the phone, Karen was hoping that Grace was thinking of Will's reaction, not their actions, when she started regretting their journey. After everything they shared, everything she felt, there was no way the redhead would want to renege on that. Then again, just look at your history, Karen. Look at Wendy, look at Sylvia. Elizabeth. Look at all the times you thought things couldn't change before they turned to dust. What makes you think this will be any different?

Because Grace isn't Wendy, or Sylvia, or Elizabeth. She may give off hints of them from time to time, but she isn't them. She could never be. And that's what gave Karen that strange sense of hope.

She let the rest of her martini slip through her lips, set the glass on the nightstand, and let her head hit her pillow. Reality always hit harder in the dark, and she knew her mind would spin this for a few manic cycles before it let her close her eyes and sleep. But it wasn't foreign land. And she wasn't deterred just yet.

Uphill battles were her specialty.


	11. This Is Not a Pipe

NOTE: A portion of the poem "Souvenir" by Edna St. Vincent Millay is included in this chapter.

" _ **This is not your hand, that is not my rib  
**_ _ **This is not your farewell kiss, and those are not your lips  
**_ _ **I became a writer, you became my wife  
**_ _ **And I was not unhappy my whole life  
**_ _ **All the lies I've ever told will come back to me one day  
**_ _ **If this rain keeps coming, we can wash the world away"  
**_ _ **-Franz Nicolay, "This Is Not a Pipe"**_

 _1983: Age 24_

 _From the diary of Karen St. Croix: "When do I get to wake up from this?"_

The sunlight pouring in from the bay window screamed at her to wake up. She resisted as much as she could, covering her still closed eyes, turning on the living room couch so that her face was buried as far into the cushion as she could get it. Eventually, she heard the cautiously soft yet ever present footsteps of Daniel and Blake going about their day, doing their best not to wake her. It was 11:30; they shouldn't have to walk on eggshells. But they have been for the last month, and as much as she wanted to tell them they didn't have to, her energy to speak up had been drained out of her a long time ago. Hell, her energy to make it to her bedroom every night was drained a long time ago. But it wasn't like she wanted to be in there, anyway. It was why she set up camp downstairs.

Karen couldn't bring herself to sleep in that bed, in _their_ bed. Not since the funeral.

It didn't seem real at first. Once Sophie had landed in California, she called Karen at least once a day, during her free time, in between writing sessions, whenever she could slip away for a few minutes. Talk about the sights, talk about the weather. She had finally gotten past the writer's block over lunch and jotted a couple lines on a napkin, raced to a payphone so she could get the only critique she really cared about. And every time after that, Sophie would call with a few more lines, giving Karen, one by one, the pieces to an eloquent puzzle that she had every intention of completing. She didn't think much of it when, in the middle of her stay, Sophie went the day without calling. Sometimes, when she truly got in the zone, everything else faded into the background until she got all the words out; Karen would watch in awe while her girl was at work, passion pouring out of her until she was spent. She was sure that was what it was. But then another day passed. And on day three of radio silence, the doorbell rang. Karen came up behind Daniel as he opened the door and she froze.

She never talked about her parents, mainly because there was nothing to talk about; her father was long gone, she had lost track of her mother and Gin ages ago. Which is why she never pushed it when Sophie refused to talk about her own family; if anyone understood the hardships that came along with blood relations, it was her. But when she peeked over Daniel's shoulder at the couple in the doorway, she saw Sophie in the man's eyes, as he wrapped his arm around his wife. They introduced themselves, told them how sorry they were to be meeting Sophie's friends under these circumstances. And just as Karen was wondering what circumstances they could possibly be talking about, Mr. St. Croix told them about the van that sideswiped Sophie's cab, apologized for not being able to deliver the news sooner. Karen's thumb immediately started fidgeting with her ring behind her back, as if the fact that she had it on her finger made liars out of them; it was proof of all of Sophie's promises, including the one where she would come back to Karen in two days' time. It wasn't real; it couldn't be.

But the next thing she knew, she was seated in a pew in the back of a crowded church, watching strangers eulogize a woman they didn't know. Daniel squeezed her hand throughout, a show of support if she needed it, but she was too stunned by the choices Mr. and Mrs. St. Croix made for the memorial. Sophie wouldn't have wanted any of this: speeches by strangers (she could count the number of people who truly knew her on both hands, and none of them spoke), designated Bible verses (she wasn't a believer), in a place she never once stepped foot in (she would have wanted a small gathering in the park, someplace she loved). This was never for Sophie; her parents seemed to be clinging to a version of their daughter that hadn't existed in years. It was never for the family Sophie knit together, either; it was impossible for Karen to mourn in this place. And somewhere in the middle of her wishes to race home and honor her wife properly, it finally fully hit her: Sophie wouldn't be coming home. She wouldn't be there waiting for her. This was real. This was her life now.

Karen spent her days after the service going through the motions, only leaving the house when she had to, only speaking when she had to, sleeping through the days and pacing the floors trying to quiet her mind at night. She was thinking too much; she couldn't make herself stop. She wondered if Sophie's parents knew who she was to their daughter. She wondered if Sophie got to finish what she was writing. She wondered what would have happened if she had just thrown herself into the retreat when Sophie offered the night before she left. She wondered about a lot of things, things that seemed to float around her like dust in a sunbeam, waiting for answers that would never come. The air was thick with them; it made it hard to breathe.

She woke up at 11:30 that morning, one month after the funeral, with the overwhelming need to get out of that house.

Because, really, it wasn't her house anymore. Or, at least, it didn't feel that way. Sophie brought her into this life. Sophie walked her through the front door, brought her ear to Blake's music, her eye to Daniel's artwork. Sophie made Edna St. Vincent Millay's poetry sound more beautiful than she already thought it to be. Sophie made her bed into their bed, her world into their world. Karen would not be here if it weren't for her. And now, as she made her way through the rooms, she realized just how much of Sophie lived in these walls. Someday, it will seem like a comfort, she knew (although, looking back on this time later in her life, Karen would wish she let herself have more time in that home, that world. She would wish that she had done a lot of things differently), but now she let her fingers run along the walls and marveled at how much of a stranger she seemed to be. This place had finally turned into the place that haunted her dreams leading up to Sophie's departure. Walls closing in. Cold rooms leading into cold rooms. She made it into the shower hoping for some solace in solitude. She stood under the scalding water, letting it pour over her as she listened to it echo in the air and shut out everything but her thoughts.

But her thoughts kept leading her back to the now overwhelming sense that not only was she a stranger, but that this was somehow karma. If everything leading up to Sophie was anything to go by, Karen was not meant for easy and she was not meant for painless. She was not meant for the kind of happiness that was genuine. She was meant for fake smiles and white lies that build up a tolerance for the worst of things. But then Sophie's fingers were entwined with hers for the first time, and she thought she could break the cycle. For two years, she thought she beat the game. But now, she was here. Outside, the weather was about to turn, the full effects of Autumn almost in the air in what she was certain was some kind of cosmic joke. She started with that chill and a raven-haired stranger. Now, she came full circle alone and shivering.

She had lied to herself all this time, holding Sophie close, telling herself that she could deal herself a new hand, that easy and painless and genuine happiness were in the deck. The universe couldn't have that. So she got what she deserved.

Karen dried herself off and threw on some clothes, grabbed her purse and left without a word to the boys. She knew the deal and didn't need to go through it again; they'd muster smiles as she moved to get a drink or grab a book from the shelf, and then as soon as she turned her back to them, she'd hear their whispers. _We should really do something_ , one of them would say, although it was never quite clear what that something was. _Just let her be, she'll talk when she's ready._ Although it was never quite clear when that would be. So when she could skip the spiel altogether, she did.

She had no idea where she was going, but then again, that wasn't really the point. It still felt weird, being outside, watching life go on for everyone else as usual, seeing that time did not stop, that people were still rushing around, that children were still chasing each other and laughing, that drivers were still laying on their horns at the intersection by the townhouse as if that will result in anything. Everything in their house felt frozen. She wasn't sure if walking Manhattan was the way to go, but she figured it had to be better than another day staring at the ceiling, putting her life on the shelf to collect dust. The breeze hit her skin and made her feel a little more alert. Block after block, arbitrarily hanging lefts, keep walking straight, make a right here. When she realized where she led herself, she stopped in her tracks. She laughed in spite of herself; of course her subconscious would take her here. She took a breath and walked towards the window of the tattoo parlor she and Sophie used a lifetime ago.

She had floated the idea of getting another one, as she traced the lines of her wife's one morning in bed. Something to symbolize their relationship, their future. It kept coming up after that, as she contemplated where it would go, how big she wanted it to be, to where Sophie wanted in, too. They were going to do it when she came back from California. She still thought about going through with it, to keep Sophie with her always. And, as she looked through the window, they seemed to be going through a slow period. Karen walked in, asked if they could take her, and she was led to a station. When she felt the first strike of the needle on her skin, it fully hit her where she was, what she was doing. Who should be here. Somewhere in the middle of it all, she felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes and thought about how perfect of a cover this was. She hadn't cried over Sophie in front of the boys; she didn't want their pity, and she didn't want to be told that it was going to be okay, because it wasn't. But here? She was in a room full of strangers, and considering how she took it the last time, she could pass this off as a reaction to the needle. It felt safe here.

"All done," she heard as her artist set the needle down. She stood up and made her way over to the mirror he had set up in his station, her eyes focused on the creation on her hip as she felt that hot sting once again.

"It's perfect," she whispered, and looked down at her body to get more than just a reflection of it.

Her eyes landed on an anchor, once meant to symbolize the stability she found in Sophie's love; now, a reminder that, at some point in her life, she had one.

* * *

 _1998_

She screwed up and she knew it.

Grace replayed that phone call in her head all day and felt as though she just undid everything that had happened in the cabin. Will had gotten to her, nothing she said to Karen last night was what she meant to say. If she was a more secure person, she would have told him the truth. She would have told him who she was with and how she felt about her. Instead, she was at her desk, glancing across the room at a woman absorbed in the pages of _Vogue_ who could very well be regretting everything.

It wasn't as though there had been time to talk, anyway. Between clients and meetings, she was lucky to have a few minutes to herself here and there. And when she did have free time, Karen was gone, or Will had come by to take her to lunch. She couldn't get a moment alone with Karen. She just wanted a moment, even if it was to say she was sorry and leave it at that.

Outside the office window, the redhead saw the sun start to set. She had seen her last client of the day, she saw Karen reaching for her purse to make her exit. And she knew she couldn't leave without saying something-anything-to let Karen know.

She blurted out a "Hey" and winced at how hard it sounded.

Karen looked up from her purse, and Grace wished the dark haired woman had a tell. Something to let her know how to approach this. She looked into Karen's expectant eyes, and knew she had to rip off the Band-Aid if she wanted to get anywhere. "Look, I just wanted to let you know before you leave…" How could she possibly say this? _Remember when I basically told you our cabin trip never should have happened?_ She tried to piece together the right words. "What I said last night...you have to know I didn't mean it. It's just that Will was on my case and I wasn't thinking things through, and all I wanted to do was talk to you, but I couldn't get away and by the time I did, I was so frustrated-"

"Honey, honey, honey," Karen said to stop the redhead from spinning. "It's okay. I know what you meant."

Grace sighed. "I'm sorry if I made you think I didn't want what happened. I want it. I kind of wish we never left."

"I'm sorry you couldn't get Will off your back. And I'm sorry I haven't been that talkative. It's not because I'm mad at you. I just haven't really been here today."

She said it so simply, as if it happened all the time, that Grace was taken aback. The redhead knew that at any given moment, Karen Walker could have a million different things going on behind that wall of hers. It was just that sometimes, she didn't realize how much weight she must be carrying on her shoulders. "Kare, what's going on?"

Karen knew she could play it off, say it was nothing, Stan just rubbed her the wrong way, she'll get over it. But she remembered their last night in the cabin, what Grace told her just before they fell asleep. _I'm going to be right here. Whenever you're ready._ She thought she might be ready. And even if she wasn't, she knew it was safe with Grace. She took a breath and looked the redhead in the eye. "Do you really want to know?"

"Of course."

The dark haired woman got up from her desk and headed towards the door. "Then come with me."

They were silent on their short walk, Karen because she wasn't quite sure what to say until they got to their destination, Grace because she was hell bent on not saying the wrong thing. But when Karen slid her hand into Grace's and tightened her grip on it, both women relaxed. Grace felt the dark haired woman's warmth radiating against the brisk New York evening and cautiously smiled to herself. If Karen was this close to her now, things had to be okay between them. But when she shifted her gaze towards Karen and her concentrated look as they marched on, she understood that she was about to be invited into territory that, up until now, was only reserved for the one who experienced it first hand. Suddenly, the call didn't seem so important. When Karen stopped them, Grace took a look around.

Washington Square Park. Under the arch.

Karen closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself. "You know the book you were reading in the cabin?" Grace knew she couldn't see it, but she nodded. "Did you see the inscription on the inside cover?"

"Yeah. I did."

Karen opened her eyes and pointed towards a bench across from the fountain. "I was sitting right there when Sophie slid that book onto the empty space next to me. I had seen her hanging out by the fountain, and was aching to talk to her. But she got to me first. She had no idea it was my favorite, and I was convinced it was fate." She positioned herself in front of Grace, moved her a few steps to the right. "I was standing right here when I got married to her. Well...as married as we could be. I changed my name. We said a few words. Then we celebrated into the night. I think that was the best day of my life."

She led Grace to her old bench and sat down. "What happened?" the redhead asked.

"She went to California for a writing retreat. Halfway through, she was in a car accident. My mind just refused to believe it at first. And then I was at her funeral." They let the silence linger between them for a little while, before Grace found the voice to speak.

"Karen, I'm so sorry."

"It's been fifteen years. I come here every year because it's still so full of her. It's gotten better; usually I can still go about my business when the day comes. But it's just harder today, I think because it hit me that she's been gone for fifteen years. Stan has no idea I do this; he stopped asking where I go years ago. I never told my last husband. I never told anyone until now."

Karen was doing fine, putting on a strong front. Until Grace took her hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb in such a small, powerful act of kindness. She felt the lump in her throat. But she wasn't about to stop now.

"Back then, I thought I had finally rid myself of everything that used to make my heart ache, because I found her. She packed a lifetime into two years. When she died, it felt like my life with her was one big lie, like I was fooling myself because my entire life until then was just one disappointment after another. And then you come along, and it feels so good. Too good. Some days I feel like I'm waiting to be shown that it's a lie. Maybe I could use a good lie."

"Karen, we don't have to talk about us right now. We're here for her."

It was then that Karen knew she made the right decision, bringing Grace here. Letting her peek behind the wall. Taking her hand and leading her to the other side. The memories she lived in were safe in Grace's hands. She was safe in Grace's hands. Safe to look around the park, to let her mind go to the places she only ever went alone. She always wanted to go there alone. Until Grace walked by with a look and a promise. And she had to hand it to her, Grace kept it. She was here. She was staying here.

Karen looked back towards the arch, her mind flooded with memories of the wedding; even if the photos hadn't come out, she would have remembered every little detail. She was so lost in thought, she didn't realize what she let escape under her breath. " _Why do I remember you/As a singing bird?_ "

Grace smiled as Karen sang the lines, furrowed her brow. "What did you just say?"

Karen startled before she knew her thought had escaped through her lips, reached into her purse and pulled out a paperback collection of Edna St. Vincent Millay poems that belonged to Sophie. She searched through the dog-eared pages that signified Sophie's favorites until she found the one she was looking for (Once upon a time, it annoyed Karen to no end that she did that. Sophie would always get that sly grin on her face and grab one of Karen's paperbacks with the spine broken in every possible place and its cover on its last leg. "Look who's talking," she'd say. Now, Karen was so grateful Sophie did this, and she refused to smooth out the creases). She pointed to the page and said, "She used to read from this all the time, but she turned this one into a song. She sang it around the house so much that it would get stuck in my head. I used to get so annoyed." She smiled at the memory as Grace wrapped her arm around Karen's and rested her head on the dark haired woman's shoulder. Karen read the poem in full, catching herself sliding in and out of the song every now and then. They let the silence cover them, careful not to shatter the moment. And then quietly, Grace murmured.

"It doesn't have to be a lie this time, by the way."

Karen looked down at the redhead. Grace didn't move from her shoulder, didn't look to meet her gaze. If she didn't know any better, she would have questioned whether it even happened. She planted a kiss in Grace's curls and rested her cheek against her.

She turned the page and read another poem.


	12. Interlude: Rain

" _ **Now, I don't want to beg you, baby  
**_ _ **For something maybe you could never give  
**_ _ **I'm not looking for the rest of your life  
**_ _ **I just want another chance to live"  
**_ _ **-Patty Griffin, "Rain"**_

 _1999_

Grace marked her place in the diary and stared straight ahead as the snowflakes met their demise on the windshield. She felt the tears start to well up, wiped them away before they could reach Karen's words. To say she had no idea would be a lie; she always knew there was something going on behind those eyes. But Karen only gave what she was comfortable giving away, and Grace was left to her own devices on the rest. She knew there was a rift between Karen and her mother for reasons Karen never explained to her. She knew that a girl had caused Karen to drop out of college and make her way to Manhattan. She knew the basics of Sophie. She thought she had a handle on her love's past. Turns out, she didn't have a clue. She just had a handful of hints. She just had her toe in the water. Now, she was being told to dive in. And as she waded deeper and deeper, she had the feeling that the waters were only going to get darker.

But she asked for it; she knew that. She wanted to know everything. She wanted to know who Karen was. Careful what you wish for, Gracie (she could even hear it in Karen's voice).

She tried to bring herself back to reality, realized how long she must have been sitting on the side of the road. She let the diary fall into the passenger seat and started driving, even though she knew her mind was running wild. She remembered Karen's first day on the job, how Will came by to take her to lunch and came face to face with the new assistant. Grace didn't tell him much of anything about her, just that she had finally found someone to help out around the office. Maybe she should have prepared him. To his credit, he had maintained his poker face until they got to the restaurant. But she could see the look he had as he was fiddling with his chopsticks across from her, and she knew something was up. "Alright, what's with the face?" she had asked.

"What face? There's no face."

"There's definitely a face. Will, whatever you have to say, just say it."

There had been the slightest bit of hesitation, and then, "Okay. Your assistant? Karen? Sweetie...you can't be serious."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just trying to figure out why you settled for the woman with zero qualifications. It's for her connections, right? I mean, I was only there for a few minutes, but she couldn't be bothered to look up from her nail file long enough to answer the phone. I can guarantee you she's never seen a fax machine in her life. The woman keeps a martini glass on her desk, Grace."

She had known that Will would object when he met Karen. But her own perception of the woman was so prominent in her mind, that she had been taken aback at how easy it was for Will to find fault with her. It had put her on the defensive. "So she's a little unconventional. What difference does it make?"

"Gracie, come on. You just know she's the type who marries for money, so she never has to do an honest day's work in her life. What is she even doing there?"

She wasn't about to tell him about their chance encounter at the bar. Whiskey on the rocks. Cheap beer. A few late night confessions to a stranger under neon lights. Feeling so intensely drawn to her, wanting to keep her close so she could figure out why. "Okay, you know what? It's my business. You know nothing about her, Will." The coldness in her voice had stopped him, and they had spent the rest of their lunch date in near silence. But it was true; he didn't know a thing about Karen Walker.

Although now, it was becoming apparent that she didn't either.

Because now, Grace was feeling so many things, she didn't know where to begin. She had traced her finger along the wide handwriting of seven-year-old Karen, smiling as she tried to conjure up a picture the dark-haired, dark-eyed child who wrote the words. Of course, that was before she actually read the words. She felt her heart sink for Karen waiting for her mother at seven, ripped from her first love at thirteen, leaving home at sixteen. She marveled at Karen and the homecoming queen, Karen and Sylvia's college secret. She wanted to turn the pages all the way to the end to see what, if anything, Karen had written about her. She wanted to see if her memories of their relationship matched with Karen's. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, Grace was disgusted at herself for letting her selfish side take over at a time like this. Most of all, she found herself so curious about the Karen that Sophie knew, the Karen that Grace will never see. She wanted to know Karen St. Croix, who wore the sweaters and jeans taking up space in a Vermont cabin's closet, who read in the park, who surrounded herself with art and music and words so eloquent, you could cry. She wanted to meet the woman for whom Park Avenue was a crazy notion. Grace wondered how different Karen would be now if she had been allowed to follow another path.

She was in love with Karen Walker; of this she was certain. But she couldn't help but wonder how-if life had gone differently for the dark haired woman-she would have felt if she wound up on the barstool next to Karen St. Croix instead. Sophie probably would have been with her. They might have become friends. More likely, Grace would have examined her life with Danny in comparison to the lovely couple next to her and felt overwhelming envy.

Or maybe, if she was truly happy, Karen St. Croix never would have set foot inside that bar. It was a thought Grace couldn't stand to have in her head. She couldn't bear to think of a universe in which she was never blindsided by some version of Karen.

She realized this was selfish, too. And she realized it wasn't anything new. Her selfishness rained down on their entire relationship. They were drowning in it. Hiring Karen so she wouldn't lose her again. Throwing a fit when she saw Stan kissing her at the penthouse party, kissing Karen in private like she had any right to. Leaving Danny at the last possible moment. Late nights in the office. Sneaking Karen into the apartment after Will went to bed and pushing her back out again before he woke up. Hiding in the large expanses of the manse. The cabin.

God, that first cabin trip. Picking up that book like she was entitled to it. Her eyes had landed on that inscription, she wondered for a second who Sophie was, and just as quickly moved on to the story inside the pages. After all, there might never have been a Sophie; it could have been one of those secondhand finds containing messages meant for other people, people who discarded those relationships as easily as they discarded those books. When Karen took her to Washington Square Park to remember Sophie, Grace felt weighed down by guilt at having intruded on a piece of Karen's history that didn't need her fingerprints on it. Now, reading page after page of Sophie's impact on Karen's life, she wished she never intruded. She took what wasn't hers; Karen could protest all she wanted, but Grace couldn't shake the feeling that she crossed a line.

It wouldn't have been the first time she crossed it. She couldn't believe Karen had put up with it for this long.

Welcome to the breaking point.

 _I think maybe I need to go away for a little while._ Karen's words were ringing in Grace's ears now, but last night, it was a problem with a simple solution. The redhead had propped herself up in bed, watched as her love's sleep-heavy eyes struggled to stay open. She stroked Karen's hair and spoke softly. _We can leave in the morning._ Just like that. A few days in Vermont, away from everyone, in the world that they've created over the last few months; she would be lying if she said she didn't need that, too. Karen didn't answer her, but Grace could have sworn she saw the smallest fleeting smile before the dark haired woman succumbed to sleep. She rested her head against Karen's chest and listened to the lullaby of her steady heartbeat. She fell asleep thinking about being the one to drive them this time, how much she would need to pack, and where to stop for Karen's road trip copy of _Vogue_ in the morning. When she woke up to find Karen's side of the bed empty and the diary resting on the nightstand, she wished she picked up on the way Karen had spoken of her escape. She wished she could have taken better care of Karen's heart.

She wished she realized how much that heart was hurting.

Grace had been selfish from the start. She knew that Karen had started carving footholds into her wall, allowing the redhead to slowly climb its height, and still she wanted to know more. She wanted to know it all. Now, she got what she wanted. And now, in one more act of selfishness, she slowed her car as she reached Karen's cabin, in an effort to save something she couldn't possibly give up. Grace listened when Karen told her she couldn't promise forever. She understood, to the point of exiling it from her own vocabulary. She tricked herself into believing she didn't want forever, if it meant holding onto Karen for another day. Days add up. They become weeks, they become months. She could take it one day at a time, because the stretch of days behind them made her optimistic for the stretch of days to come. There was nothing in her being, though, that could convince her to stop trying for another chance. Karen left in the middle of the night like she already assumed that Grace wouldn't stop her from going, like she had done this dance before, like she knew the steps by heart. Like she didn't know the redhead who had been sleeping next to her. Even though the redhead sleeping next to her would be dropping everything to bring her back home in just a few short hours.

Maybe that's what would make Grace different from the others, the ones who gave up; she continued to fight when everyone else surrendered. Maybe it would blow up in her face. But she had to try.

She parked in the cabin's driveway, turned the overhead light on. She gave into the urge to try to look through the cabin's window from her seat; she saw the room was dimly lit, pictured Karen the way she found her that very first night they had together, candles and Cabernet and cigarettes. She wanted it. She wanted to feel Karen rest her head on her shoulder, absently run her finger in circles along her thigh the way she did to her wine glass. She wanted the rambling conversation. She just wanted Karen.

But she couldn't go in there unprepared.

Grace grabbed the diary from the passenger seat, felt the weight of it in her hands. It was so much heavier now that she knew what was inside it. She opened it to her mark, took a breath. And she picked up where she left off.


	13. No One Wakes Me Up Like You

" _ **No one wakes me up like you  
**_ _ **No, no one wakes me up like you do  
**_ _ **Look me in the eyes  
**_ _ **Tell me you're alright  
**_ _ **Well, I'm not doin', I'm not doin'-  
**_ _ **Well, I'm just doin' fine"  
**_ _ **-Deep Dark Robot, "No One Wakes Me Up Like You"**_

 _1984: Age 25_

 _From the diary of Karen Popeil: "I'm not quite sure how I got here. I'm not quite sure that I care."_

The year had been a bit of a blur.

Each time Karen tried to piece together everything that led her to this point, she was certain she missed something, skipping a vital part of the equation that would surely unlock the answers. Because under no logic she could muster would she have wound up here, so far from the person she thought she was that it was like that person never existed. Sometimes, when she first went with him, she found herself waiting. Waiting for some past version of her to snap her out of this. Waiting for someone to scream at her to wake up. Waiting to feel anything other than indifference. Waiting for things that would never come. But she quickly realized that things were not going to change unless she tried to change them. And, to be honest, she didn't really have the energy to try.

This is what she knew: She had gotten sick of feeling like a stranger in that Greenwich Village townhouse around the same time Blake's uncle started coming around to check in on him. Fifteen years Blake's senior, Jordan Popeil acted more like a protective older brother to Blake than anything else. He had been out of the country when Sophie died, but arrived on the townhouse steps the minute he returned to the States, to offer his condolences and anything else his nephew and his friends might need. Karen wasn't sure if he knew exactly who Sophie was to her, but he could see how the loss affected her, and he lent an ear and a shoulder. She was a little wary of him at first, but he was nice enough. And it was good to finally talk to someone; as much as she loved and trusted Daniel and Blake, she found it nearly impossible to broach any topic carrying more weight than how to split the grocery bill that week. He started asking her out for drinks, just as friends, just to let off some steam. He inched his way closer to her, and she could feel it. Part of her didn't think he would take that step. Part of her knew he would and was bracing herself for it. She could never pin down what she would do if he made that move. Sometimes, he made her laugh. But most of the time, he distracted her. And she was in the market for a good distraction.

This is what was fuzzy, what blended together to create one massive jumble of events, because it all happened so quickly: their first date. Their first kiss. The first time they went to bed together. The day she moved into his home on the Upper East Side. The designers quickly filling up her closet while her own clothes still sat in the boxes she moved with. The day Daniel and Blake severed their ties with Karen because this all felt like a betrayal to them. The proposal. The diamond. The vows. The honeymoon.

Then one day, she looked in the mirror and she was clad in Chanel, with a ring on her finger that wasn't Sophie's. And she wondered how long she had been asleep to have completely missed this transformation.

When Karen was a child, an intoxicated Lois once gave her what she believed to be sage advice. _You wanna be happy, kid? Don't fall in love._ She prided herself on never sharing her heart with the men who crossed her path, on never letting something as messy as affection get in the way of her plans for herself. Up until that point, Karen was certain that her mother had loved her father; she seemed genuinely devastated when he died. But watching Lois' easy lies time and again, she could no longer be sure. Maybe it was just an act for her daughter's benefit. It always seemed like a lonely existence, never opening yourself up, never letting anyone know how you truly feel. Once she started living away from her mother's influence, she would think of Lois and wonder if she believed in the lies she told. Because when Wendy placed the pageant tiara on her head, when Sylvia climbed into her twin bed, when Sophie caught her eye in Washington Square Park, Karen knew a true happiness you couldn't possibly get from closing yourself off to the world. And she thought it incredibly sad that her mother never got to experience it for herself. But then Wendy went off to college, and Sylvia's mother ripped her out of school to get her daughter away from Karen's sapphic influence.

And now, with Sophie gone, she was beginning to see Lois' point. Once that unbelievable bliss was ripped from her, it was replaced with the heaviest burden of unbelievable heartache. It made her question whether baring her soul to a stranger she met in the park was such a wise idea after all, when the heartache acted like an iron curtain that separated her from the bliss. It made her question whether she'd be happier now if she hadn't dialed the number written inside that book. Which is why, when she looked at Jordan, she saw safety. She didn't love him, not like she loved Sophie, not like she loved Sylvia, not like anything. But he kept her company, and he didn't push her when she didn't feel like moving. He made it easy for her to go through the motions. He made it easy for her to sleep through her life.

She wouldn't necessarily call herself happy. But she was numb. And numb was better than the unbearable pain she had been feeling before.

There were times, in the beginning, when Karen started to feel guilty. Everyone deserves to be with someone who loves them. But soon after the wedding, Jordan seemed to distance himself, spending more and more time at what he claimed to be the office. There was less to talk about, less of whatever connection they once had to hold on to. Soon enough, it felt like they had leveled the playing field. She didn't need to feel guilty, because she was certain that he was asleep, too. And neither one of them was about to wake up any time soon.

This morning, Karen was sitting across from Jordan at the dining table in silence, his face blocked by his copy of the _Times_ while she slowly swirled the celery in her Bloody Mary. She got a flash of mornings with Sophie and realized this wasn't how it was supposed to be, living virtually separate lives under the same roof. She realized that she wasn't okay. But she had become okay with the fact that she wasn't okay; she just hadn't yet gotten to the point where she understood that that was worse. She sipped her drink, found herself trying to read the headlines staring back at her where her husband's loving gaze should be. She heard him take a breath behind the print like he was preparing himself to speak, like it was an effort.

"I was thinking I'd take you out tonight," he said, barely bothering to put down the paper. "Candlelit dinner. Just the two of us." It didn't sound like a romantic gesture when it escaped his lips. It didn't sound as though he realized they were on opposite ends and needed a bridge. More than likely, he found out where a major potential client would be dining this evening, and he thought he would bring his wife along while he poured on the charm. Honestly, she would have respected him more if he had simply told her that. Jordan lowered his paper further, waiting, and Karen realized she hadn't responded to his gesture.

"Whatever you want, honey." _Honey_. Endearing enough to sound like she felt close to you, generic enough to keep you at arm's length. She had come to depend on that word to keep her cover. It served her well.

Karen watched Jordan go upstairs to finish getting ready for work before she grabbed her coat and walked out the door. She slid her hands into her pockets, trying to keep herself warm against the December chill as she made her way towards Central Park. She had taken to walking its expanse, always finding a new place to explore, always relieved when it didn't carry the same bittersweet memories that a certain park downtown did. If she was being completely honest, the latter made it easy to tolerate the tourists at every turn. Everyone around her was usually occupied with something else-seeing the sights, quiet conversations with their friend, their lover-that she took comfort in being somewhere so open, yet she couldn't be seen. She liked the solitude in a place like this. Further down her walk, though, she felt eyes on her, and lowered her gaze to the path beneath her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of feet slow to a stop, belonging to a body that couldn't let her leave just yet.

"Karen?"

She stopped in her tracks at the sound of her name in that familiar soft southern lilt that took her back six years. It felt like a lifetime ago. Even last year felt like a lifetime ago. But six years...it was long enough to become faded to the point of obscurity in someone's memory. Not Karen's; Karen remembered everything. But she failed to see how she could make that much of an impact on the people who have come and gone in her life. There was no way it could be her. There was no way she'd be in Manhattan; she wouldn't know what to do with herself in Manhattan. But there was that voice again. "Karen Delaney, right?" She wanted to move, but she found it impossible. "Oh god...I guess you don't remember me."

Karen found her strength, turned to face her, and it felt as though the world stopped. It was like she was looking through a window to her past; it was remarkable how the woman looked the same as she did when Karen last saw her. Of course she remembered her. She remembered the dorm room, she remembered the dance. She remembered everything. It woke her up. It made it hard to speak. But when she finally could, she could only manage a single word.

"Sylvia."

* * *

 _1998_

She was approaching forty in a few months (although you'd be hard-pressed to hear her admit that), and Karen was finally being taught the difference between asleep and awake in real time. She had slept through life many times, after Wendy and Sylvia and Sophie. During her marriage to Jordan. When she spent her nights with Stan. She had been awake many times, with Wendy, with Sylvia, with Sophie. Always with Sophie. But when she was awake, she always forgot what it was like when she was asleep, and vice versa. Now, Grace was there to wake her up after she went through the motions of being Stanley Walker's wife. Now, she couldn't forget one feeling while being absorbed in the other. It made her want to get to a place where she'd feel awake all the time.

She just couldn't quite figure out how to get there yet.

This was asleep: feeling the sun shine down on her face and opening her eyes to see that she was alone in this bed, possibly all night. Letting her fingers run along the fabrics hanging in her closet before making the selection that fit best with the mask she'd have on that day. Softly walking downstairs so Stan could greet her with a nod or, if she was lucky, a grunt of recognition as he organized his briefcase and started heading for the door. Thinking about how different it was when they first got together and marvelling at how those days were so far gone, so far away from their current normal, she wasn't even sure she could miss them if she tried, because she couldn't remember how they felt. This morning was just like all the others she'd experienced within these walls. Stan was headed for the door when his voice suddenly boomed through the foyer.

"Let's get away this weekend. Just you and me. Wherever you want to go. I could use some time away from the city. What do you say?"

She said it without even looking up at him. "Whatever you want, honey." It was a reflex at this point, because she knew how this went. She honestly believed he only did it just to say something. He would propose some spontaneous getaway weekend, something that caters to everything he thinks she wants. The next day, he'll mention something about finding a place to stay, and she'll smile and go along with it. But then one of two things will happen: either he'll come up with some work excuse to get out of it, or he'll forget about it completely while Karen sits around waiting for a second chance that never existed in the first place. It's happened so often over the years, she learned that if she never got her hopes up, there would never be space for her to come crashing down. Stanley started rattling off destinations around the time she starting figuring that she'd try to spend her weekend in Grace's company. He had his hand on the doorknob as he turned to face her. "Think about it," he said, before he left without a goodbye, without an "I love you." It was amazing how he could make a romantic getaway sound like a business deal.

She waited a few minutes to be sure she wouldn't run into him downstairs before she left for work.

This was awake: walking into Grace Adler Designs and seeing a wildfire of red curls hovering over a sketchbook. Seeing Grace's smile and knowing it was just for her. Feeling Grace swoop in from behind, arms wrapping around her as she hung her coat on the rack. Hearing the good morning greeting she was never privy to at home. It had been a few weeks since Karen took Grace to Washington Square Park. At first she was in complete shock that she hadn't scared the redhead away with a heavy dose of her past. But she quickly realized that Grace would have never scared so easily, that Grace could be trusted. It eased her mind. It made her a little more willing to step towards the edge.

Grace slid her hand into Karen's and led her to her desk. "Come here, I want your opinion on this," she said as she put her sketchbook in front of Karen. "Am I going overboard with this? He's going to be here any second, and I can't shake the feeling that something is off. I really want to land this client, he could open the door to so much work."

Karen traced the edges of the paper with her fingers. "Would you relax? This is gorgeous, he's going to love it. Don't worry so much, Gracie."

Lately, she bit her tongue whenever she felt a "Honey" in her throat around Grace. She let the redhead peek behind the wall, and the redhead was still here. Suddenly, she didn't want to keep Grace at arm's length anymore; suddenly, she wasn't as afraid of everything blowing up in her face as she once was. She pulled Grace close to her in the office during slow periods, watched the way she moved when she was excited to show off her latest creation, thrilled whenever she claimed a kiss behind the assistant's desk on her way back to her own station. She stole glances whenever Grace was meeting with a client, like she was now. Trying hard not to make Grace lose her place in her pitch, but finding that her heart swelled every time she caught the redhead with a sly smile she couldn't keep hidden any longer. She tried to keep her focus on the magazine settled in her hands; it only worked half of the time.

"I'll call you if anything changes," Grace said as she shook her client's hand at the end of the meeting. He was halfway to the door when she looked at her assistant's focus on her own little side project. "Karen, could you help me with something in the swatch room?"

The dark haired woman looked up from her magazine as the redhead disappeared behind the dividing wall in the back. She nodded her goodbye to the client walking out the door as she made her way towards the swatch room. The second she made it through the entryway, she felt Grace's hold on her wrist as the redhead pulled her into a hungry kiss. The sheer force of it knocked her backwards, saying a silent "Thank you" when she backed up against a few bolts of fabric that let her steady herself. "I can't concentrate when you look at me like that," Grace said. Karen felt the redhead's body pressed against her, and couldn't believe how exhilarating the weight of her felt.

"This is what I'm helping you with?" Karen smirked as she pulled away for a breath and let her hands slide around Grace's waist.

"Well," Grace murmured, "I certainly couldn't do this alone." She plunged her lips into the crook of Karen's neck as Karen sighed. The dark haired woman let her hands burrow under Grace's blouse and travel up her spine. She found the clasp of the redhead's bra, felt the vibrations of Grace's "Mmmmm" in her ear as she started to make her move...

"Grace?"

They broke away at the sound of Will's voice. "Ugh, devil," Karen let out in frustration. Karen felt Grace's fingers brush against her lips. "Shhh," Grace said softly before she called out to Will. "I'll be out in a minute, I've just got to...check on something back here. I've got a...fabric...crisis." Grace felt Karen's smile against her fingertips as she whispered, "I completely forgot about lunch." When she noticed Karen's breathless laughter, she almost broke down herself. "What?"

Karen broke out into a grin. "You are _such_ a bad liar," she whispered.

Grace smiled as her lips met Karen's. "I'll try to make it quick," she murmured, straightening up her clothes, smoothing out her hair. "I'll see you soon." Karen watched her as she walked out of the swatch room, heard an overly enthusiastic "Hi!" meant for Will and started laughing again at the redhead's attempt at a cover-up. She waited a couple minutes to be sure that Will and Grace had left by the time she emerged from the swatch room. She went back to her magazine, trying to kill time, as if nothing happened. Grace was gone, but it didn't matter.

She was awake.


	14. I Know You All Over Again

" _ **I know I'm adjusting, I know I should just think  
**_ _ **Of going, and not where I've been  
**_ _ **Then I see you  
**_ _ **And I know you all over again"  
**_ _ **-Trixie Mattel, "I Know You All Over Again"**_

 _1984: Age 25_

 _From the diary of Karen Popeil: "I want to hate her, for waltzing back into my life like it's nothing, for disrupting a system I had gotten used to. I want to stop her every time she talks about her life without me. I want to forget about how different I am now, and how she hasn't changed a bit. But, my god...I take one look at her now, and I see her locking the door to our dorm room before climbing into my bed. I forgot how much I missed it. I forgot how much it hurt when she was gone. Most of all, I forgot how it felt when she curled her fingers around mine, holding on like a lock without a key. It feels so strong. It feels so right."_

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to keep staring. It's just...this isn't exactly how I remember you."

Karen felt Sylvia's eyes burning her as the bartender slid their drinks across the bar. As much as she wanted to run, to tell Sylvia it was a mistake and she wasn't Karen Delaney (in some respects, this was true), she was transfixed by the past. And the past was telling her to keep Sylvia around. Karen led her to a place near the park where Jordan would take her for drinks. She kept trying to look Sylvia in the eye since they got here, but quickly found she could never hold her gaze for longer than a few seconds; she wasn't quite sure why. Jealousy? She had been put through the ringer these last few years, but Sylvia looked like time never affected her, like Karen had simply plucked her from her memories and sat her down in front of her. Shame? _This isn't exactly how I remember you_ felt like judgment; it wasn't enough that Karen had failed herself, she had to fail Sylvia, too. Or maybe it was nostalgia, longing for a time she could never return to, for a person she could no longer be, for the feeling that overwhelmed her senses now.

Yes, that had to be it.

"Well...it _has_ been six years, Syl." She felt the closeness of that nickname sting on her tongue, tried to wash it out with her martini. So much time had passed, she no longer had the right. But she couldn't help herself. And if Sylvia was taken aback by it, she didn't let it show.

"God, I know. I can't believe it's been so long. I kept thinking about you, wondering where you ended up. And look at you! You've obviously done pretty well for yourself."

Karen shook her head. "Oh, honey, I haven't done anything. I married into this. I took the easy way out. I...I don't think you can even call it a marriage." It was the first time she had said it out loud to anyone. She knew her motives for wearing Jordan's ring. But the only people she cared about explaining herself to had cut her out of their lives. And she was left with her reasons floating around in her mind, because she never found anyone who would even come close to understanding. But Sylvia didn't skip a beat.

"I know the feeling."

That was it. That was the thing that made Karen look Sylvia in the eye, that made her keep her gaze locked. Craving a deeper connection, something she could hold on to. Sylvia took a breath. "Mama wouldn't let me out of her sight when she dragged me out of school. She thought I would run back to you. I know I would have. She spent two weeks making all the plans with Elliot's parents. Train tickets, the dress, the ceremony. I had no say. She pushed Elliot and me onto a train to Georgia where he grew up. I was miserable."

"So you really did marry him." Karen knew, of course. It was obvious. But it was one thing to draw your own conclusions and another thing entirely to hear those conclusions being confirmed.

"I didn't know what else to do," she shrugged. "We stayed near his parents for a few years before he got a job in Connecticut. I never pictured myself leaving North Carolina. God, the time of my life when I was supposed to get as far away from home as possible, and I pick a college that's a stone's throw away from Mama. I thought he would be there to help me get used to the North. But he was always gone, and I was always lonely. It was hopeless. And now I'm here."

She hated herself for doing it, but Karen couldn't help it. She heard Sylvia talking in the past tense, and her eyes darted to Sylvia's hand to make sure there was no ring. She saw a naked finger, and the butterflies she used to feel in their dorm room-the ones that lived in her core constantly before the dance-returned to their rightful place.

"I'm sorry, I keep talking. I feel like I need to explain myself, everything that happened."

"It's not like I have anything great to report back with." This was a lie, and Karen knew it. She could have filled Sylvia in on everything she'd gone through since college. But she wasn't willing to share Sophie with her. Not when they've only been reunited for a couple of hours. And she knew Sylvia wasn't going to push her; she always loved that about her.

"You know, I was hoping I'd run into you."

Karen furrowed her brow. "How did you know I was here?"

"I ran into Pamela Swanson last year, and we started reconnecting." Oh yes, Pamela Swanson. Karen hadn't given her a second thought since she dropped out of school, but the name instantly conjured up a bouncy redhead who was outwardly devoted to her college sweetheart, Jason, but inwardly fighting off the temptations that Karen and Sylvia had succumbed to. They were both convinced that her love for Jason was about as true as Sylvia's was for Elliot. Karen saw the way Pam's eyes would linger on Sylvia just a second too long, but it wasn't until an end-of-semester party in the dorms and a vodka-fueled confession that they knew for sure. "You know she's living in Connecticut, too? I asked her if she knew anything about where you might have ended up. All she knew was that you left right after Mama pulled me out."

"How was I supposed to stay there without you?" It came out in a whisper, but she knew Sylvia heard it by the way she reached for Karen's hand.

"But I thought of all the times we stayed up late, even though you had that eight o'clock class you always regretted taking. How we always talked about running away together. You kept going back to New York like you thought it was the answer to all of our problems. I figured that you would have made your way up here eventually." Sylvia let a quiet smile play across her face. "I remember snuggling up close enough so I could smell that shampoo you used to use. I always felt so safe in that bed." Karen's heart skipped a beat, because she always felt safe there, too. She always felt safe with Sylvia.

So why didn't she feel safe now?

Karen took a shaky breath. "I called, you know," she murmured, willing the tears to stay inside. "I tried to say goodbye."

Sylvia tightened her hold on Karen's hand, an "O" of surprise on her lips. "Karen, I...I had no idea. When?"

"You must have been ready to leave for the train. Your mom answered, and I begged her to let me talk to you. Not to whisk you away. I just wanted a proper goodbye. I knew I couldn't fight her. And I heard you in the background, and all I wanted was for her to pass you the phone to you. But she hung up. And I left North Carolina."

Sylvia wiped away her tears with her free hand. "She told me it was a salesman on the phone." She shook her head. "I should have known you would have tried to reach me. I should have gotten off on the first stop and run. I should have come back to you."

"Syl, I was so far gone, you wouldn't have been able to find me then."

"But I found you now."

Karen had lived a few lives in the time they had been apart. And while it never disappeared completely, the memory of Sylvia started fading around the edges, more and more with each life. Starting with her stop in Chicago, through her journey to Philadelphia, and then New York. By the time Sophie walked into her life, the memory was all but color drained. Now, everything was so vibrant, it was blinding. It made her want to pull Sylvia close. It made the words spill onto the bar before she had a chance to catch them.

"I missed you. I miss you. So much." Karen looked down at her glass, unable to bring herself to see Sylvia's reaction. It didn't matter that, if she had said it two years ago, it would have been a lie. It was true now. She was surprised by how true it was now. She moved in close enough to smell the lilac on Sylvia's skin, even though she knew she shouldn't. There always seemed to be a handful of Jordan's colleagues and friends (for lack of a better term) here. It was why she brought Sylvia here in the first place; with so many eyes potentially on her, she thought it would be safe, she thought she wouldn't possibly fall into old patterns. Now, she didn't know what she was thinking. So much of their history was unresolved. And as much as she knew she should move on, she craved one more chapter.

"I'm right here. And I'll be right here." Sylvia lifted Karen's chin to find the wildly sad eyes that sent her off on her journey to being the good, straight, Christian daughter her mother demanded her to be. She needed to bring the light back to those eyes. She led Karen slowly towards her.

Karen worked against her instincts, turned away from Sylvia's lips. "Too many people know me here."

Sylvia nodded, tried to get the bartender's attention. "Excuse me, hon, do you have a pen?" Karen couldn't help but smile; Sylvia was never the formal type. Sylvia grabbed the napkin she neglected to put under her drink and the pen that was set in front of her and wrote down an address before sliding it towards Karen. "This is where I'm staying," she said as she fished around in her purse. "A friend of mine is traveling for the next few months and let me stay in her apartment while I figure out my next move." She set a pair of keys down on the bar. "It's the extra set. Come whenever you want. It'll just be you and me."

"I'm married," she whispered, as if her marriage would be any kind of defense.

"But are you really?"

Karen couldn't move for a moment; she knew Sylvia was right. When she collected herself, she signaled the bartender for the check, brushed off Sylvia's offer to split the bill and threw down some of her husband's money. When the bartender was out of earshot, Sylvia said softly, "Just think about it, okay?" Karen nodded, a tangle of words stuck in her throat unable to come out. Sylvia leaned in, brushed her lips against Karen's cheek, lingered for a moment. Her kiss was still electric after all these years; Karen felt it throughout her body. She watched Sylvia leave, saw the bartender clear the place next to her out of the corner of her eye. She clutched her martini glass and let the last bit of her drink slip between her lips, hoping it would calm her nerves. Just like that, any trace of Sylvia reappearing after six years was gone. Except for a pair of gold keys and an address to a place she wasn't sure she had the strength to visit. They stared back at her, daring her to make a move.

She slipped the keys and the napkin into her purse and left the bar, her heart racing.

* * *

 _1998_

There used to be days-back when she first met Grace and the mess of feelings tangled inside of her was something only she knew-when Karen would take a step back from her marriage to Stan and wonder if it could ever be salvaged. Of course, they had their moments together. But the moments she always went back to happened years ago, before she cried out for an alternative, before Grace's being consumed her. And every time, it made her realize that she shouldn't allow herself to get so tripped up by the past, and instead look straight ahead. By the time she took Grace to the cabin, she was far enough away from those moments to realize that the only thing that was making her keep her distance with the redhead was her own track record.

And even that became less and less of a reason.

The days went by, the trip Stan offered up was never mentioned again, the weekend came and went, just like she knew it would. She was glad that it did. It only confirmed what she knew in her heart: there was no going back to better days. Besides, none of it mattered when she was counting down the hours to another work day. Monday morning arrived, and Karen walked into Grace Adler Designs to find a rainbow of fabric samples strewn around the floor and desks, and her favorite redhead standing in the center of it all. With Grace landing the client she pitched to the other day, Karen wasn't surprised to see the explosion of supplies that usually went hand in hand with Grace immersing herself in her work. "I like what you've done with the place," she smirked as she threw her coat onto the rack by the door.

Grace whipped her head up to meet Karen's eyes before examining her handiwork. "Yeah? I was going for indecisive chic. I think I nailed it."

"Mission accomplished." Karen tried to maneuver around the samples, careful not to step on any of them, until she positioned herself across from the redhead. "Uh, Grace? You're going to have to fill me in on why you're doing this to yourself."

Grace sighed. "I have to meet with Matthew Bingham to go over fabrics, and I thought I had a plan locked in for this, but I keep going through it in my head and tweaking things, and then I remember something I want to add, and now I have five million samples for a two bedroom apartment. I can't do this, I'm too stressed out-"

"Gracie, Gracie, stop. First of all, come here." Karen held out her hands and helped Grace part the sea of blues and greens until the redhead was standing next to her. "Second, we have," she looked at her watch, "five hours until we have to leave for the meeting. So we'll gather what you need for your original idea and use the rest of the time to put together a B-plan, okay? Easy-squeezie."

" _We_?"

"You didn't think I was letting you go by yourself, did you?"

"Karen, the last time we were all in the same room, I couldn't keep my head straight."

"But you landed him. And as much as I believe in your abilities, this guy has a real knack for making you spin. Forgive me if I want to make sure that doesn't happen. You pay me. I should make myself useful at least once in my career." She slid her arm around Grace's waist. "I can be your good luck charm," she smiled. "Now, come on, let's sort through this mess."

There were moments throughout the day when Grace was stunned by Karen being the rock she so desperately needed. When she started scanning the samples the redhead had on the floor and asked which ones make the cut. When she gently offered up a few suggestions that really did fit better with the plan. When she made sure she got them out the door in time to get to Matthew Bingham's Upper East Side home. Whenever she smiled every time Grace glanced her way for reassurance. It wasn't as though Grace had hired her for professional reasons, and she knew-as much as she hated to admit it-that the bar had been set fairly low on the office assistant front. But Karen always seemed to come through when she needed it. Which shouldn't have been surprising; it wasn't the first time it happened. She seemed to remember a tiny crucial Vermont getaway not too long ago.

When they left Bingham's apartment, Grace was grinning from a successful first day. "I told you that you had nothing to worry about," Karen smiled back. "Now, we celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

"Gracie, you just finished your first day working for your most important client yet. Think of all the work you could get from this. That's a big deal." Karen walked them to a restaurant nearby that she used to frequent with Stan during their happier days. More recently, she found herself gravitating towards their bar, whenever she needed to get out of the house and she knew Grace was at home with Will. She knew it was the perfect place.

"Karen, I don't think I'm dressed for this," Grace said as they walked in and she looked around at all of the people.

Karen realized that a month ago, when Grace was still with Danny and she was trying to keep her distance, she would have had one of about fifteen insults at the ready. "While I fit in perfectly at that dive you met me in," the dark haired woman laughed now. "Come on, you look great." Her hand slid to the small of Grace's back as she led her to their corner table. The champagne arrived almost immediately, as if they were expecting Karen all along ( _were_ they expecting her?). Grace watched the bubbles rising to the top of her glass as she lifted it towards her lips.

"Wait, wait, wait, not yet," Karen said. Grace froze as the dark haired woman raised her glass. "To your creative genius," she toasted.

The redhead clinked her glass with Karen's. "To your unique brand of professionalism." Her heart swelled at Karen's laughter. "You surprised me today. You kept me grounded. If I knew you could do that, I would have tried to find you years ago."

"You did great work. I just didn't want you to lose sight of that. You get so deep inside your head sometimes, you forget how wonderful you really are. I'm proud of you, Grace."

Sometimes, Karen was so genuine that it knocked the wind out of Grace. Moments in the cabin, stolen minutes over the phone at night. It left her scrambling for her words. It made her deflect when she actually wanted to match the sentiment, and tonight was no different. "So, all I had to do was land a major client to get you to take me out on a date?" She saw Karen's eyes grow wide and couldn't help but smile.

If it threw her off her game, Karen recovered quickly. "Maybe I wanted to make sure you were going places first," she joked. She took a breath. "Or maybe I was waiting for a good cover to fall into my lap, in case you didn't want to label it a date."

"Oh, this is a date." Grace's fingers walked the table until they curled themselves around Karen's. "This is definitely a date."

"Well, I'm sorry for the delay. This probably should have happened _before_ going away together...and the whole 'baring my soul' thing."

Grace shrugged. "Semantics. I like our way better."

Karen had to admit, she liked it, too. She liked the trust, she liked the ease. More than that, she liked that when she was in Grace's arms, she found herself starting to look at the path ahead with hope, instead of looking over her shoulder at the path she walked and expecting Grace to fall behind like all the rest. "Sometimes I think back to the night we met, and I wonder why I chose that night to wallow in where I've been. I was so used to living with my past, but I couldn't help taking that extra step. It was like I knew you would be there. The night I revisited where I've been was the night you showed me where I was going."

Grace tightened her hold on the dark haired woman. "Kare, I know this isn't ideal, with Stan and everything. In a perfect world, we wouldn't be hiding from anyone. But if I get to be with you like this, at the office, at the cabin, wherever, I'll take it. We'll work it out. I'll be here. Even when you think I won't be."

Karen brought the redhead's hand to her lips. "I know you will," she said.

When she thought of the times she was here with Stan before, Karen thought of her husband's colleagues, of impromptu business meetings while she polished off the last of the wine to keep herself busy, of loneliness. Now, this place would always be full of life, of color, of Grace. After the waiter took their order, they fell into the easy, rambling back and forth Karen had become so accustomed to. She was filled with the way Grace would clutch her hand when she laughed as if to steady herself, the way the redhead's leg would brush against her own whenever there was a lull in conversation while they ate. She didn't notice when they finished what was left of the champagne, and she didn't notice the din of layered voices and clattering dinner plates. She jumped at the waiter's return, and her heart sank as he set the check in front of her.

"I don't want to go home," Karen said as she settled the bill, not realizing she said it out loud until the words were on the table.

Grace smiled that sly smile, the one that always lit up her eyes, the one that always drove the dark haired woman crazy. "So don't go home."

Was it really that simple?

Karen stood up, held out her hand for the redhead to take. "Let's get out of here," she murmured. Grace followed her lead, thrilled as her fingers intertwined with Karen's. When they walked out into the cool of the New York night, Karen brushed her lips against Grace's. "I've got an idea," she whispered as she hailed a cab.

In the back seat, she felt Grace settle into the crook of her arm as they headed downtown.


	15. Last Winter

" _ **I blindly prayed to find you here  
**_ _ **I'll find a way to keep you near  
**_ _ **You turned last winter to the mildest spring  
**_ _ **When you asked me out and you asked me in"  
**_ _ **-Fergus Brown, "Last Winter"**_

 _1984: Age 25_

 _From the diary of Karen Popeil: If I don't do it, I'll never stop thinking about it. I'll never stop thinking about her. I've tried so hard to put it all in the back of my mind, but every time I look at Jordan, all I can think is that he is standing where she should be. I know what he does behind my back. But the promise I made to him is lingering over me, judging me. I need to stop thinking so much. I need to act._

It took four days to reach the boiling point.

Karen had left the bar shaken, unsteady on her feet. She looked at the faces she passed by on the street during her walk home, hoping for some kind of sign that someone out there noticed that the world has shifted. But everyone around her acted as though it was business as usual, and she realized that it was her world that shifted, and hers alone. She walked into an empty home and couldn't decide if it was better or worse that Jordan wasn't there. Better because she didn't think she could try to muster a poker face right now. Worse because she was left alone not only with aftertaste of the day on her tongue, but also with the memories of when they first met, when Sylvia pressed her body against her at the dance, every single night leading up to their discovery. It was too crowded in her head, it was too much to bear. But she knew that if she tried hard enough, she could shove everything back below the surface.

It wouldn't have been the first time.

The first day after seeing Sylvia, Karen was able to keep it in the back of her mind. It was a fluke, it was a dream. It was something that she didn't need to dwell on because it would never happen again. She was on her way to convincing herself it never happened in the first place. On the second day, Jordan came home late again. He found Karen reading a magazine in bed, and Karen smelled the faint scent of another woman's perfume when he bent down to kiss her cheek. It only confirmed what she felt in her bones. Too often, he had come home late, and too often, he never explained himself. Karen didn't know if this was on purpose, if he thought she would play it off as work related if he didn't bring attention to it, or if he simply didn't care. But she always assumed he was sleeping around. She wished she could say it surprised her, what was going on when she wasn't looking. And she wished she could say it surprised her that just when she thought she could shake off Sylvia, this only brought her to the forefront.

On the third day, Karen felt less like salvaging a marriage that was already past the point of repair, and more like waving a white flag. Surrendering to the exhaustion that came with playing the part of a Popeil. Surrendering to a desire she hadn't felt in years. She tried everything she could to get her mind to stop: walks along the Upper East Side, dropping money in every store she walked into on things she didn't even want, mixing drink after drink after drink for herself at home. None of it worked. She couldn't stop thinking about Sylvia. Every time she walked outside, she remembered that voice calling her name. Every time she was in front of a cash register and pulled her wallet out of her purse, she brushed against the keys she was given. Every drink she made forced the image of Sylvia bringing her glass to her lips. She was spent, but she couldn't rest.

She woke up from a fitful sleep on the fourth day and realized she couldn't take it anymore. She needed to do something. She needed to move. She needed someone who loved her to touch her, and she knew that that was no longer Jordan, if it ever was. She wasn't sure if what Sylvia felt for her was love anymore, but at this point, it was close enough. There was something there; that much she knew. And that was more than she could say for the person sleeping next to her. She made it through the morning, watched Jordan make himself a drink and bring it to their living room, fidgeting every step of the way before she finally found the courage to make her exit. If she could make it to the door without hearing him speak, she wouldn't have to feel the weight of her decisions, wouldn't have to think about what it meant that she was about to play the game her husband had been playing for god knows how long. But, of course...

"Where are you going?" Jordan asked without looking up from his drink, as though he cared.

"Just going for a walk. I could use the fresh air." It was December, and the air smelled like snow, but if he thought something was suspicious about a freezing cold walk around Manhattan, he didn't show it. She slowed her pace as she grabbed her coat and headed towards the front door, telling herself that if he said something-anything-she would stay, she would pledge to work on their marriage. She would apologize for what she almost went through with. But she slid inside her coat, and she buttoned it all the way up. She grabbed her purse, and let her fingers slide against Sylvia's keys as she pretended to fish around the inside for something. She hovered by the door, just in case he wanted to catch her before she was gone.

He didn't say a word. And she walked out the door.

The apartment she wanted was only a few blocks from where they reunited in the park. Karen was shocked to know that Sylvia had practically been in her back yard. How long had Sylvia been here? How long would she have lived here without knowing her past was closer than she thought, if she had never taken that journey to Central Park? In that short walk from her home to Sylvia, which she had taken so many times before without thinking, how many times had she worked her way through the sea of faces without ever noticing the one that mattered? In an instant, Karen found herself at the door of Sylvia's building, walked in and let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. She rode the elevator to the fifth floor with the keys pressed in her palm, made it to Sylvia's door. She knew that once she turned that key in the lock, there was no going back. She knew that she would be no better than Jordan.

She knew that she didn't care.

It was silent inside the apartment, the only light in the place coming from the sun shining through the windows. "Honey?" Karen called out, shrugging off her coat and tossing it over the living room sofa, scanning as much of the apartment as she could. No answer. Her heart sank; of course this was her luck. Of course, the time that she finally mustered the strength to be here was the time that Sylvia wasn't. It could be hours until she returned. It could be that she had a change of heart entirely. Maybe in the four days it took Karen to make up her mind, Elliot was in Sylvia's ear again, asking for another shot, making Karen lose hers.

"I was starting to lose hope."

Karen turned around to find Sylvia in the doorway of the bedroom. She wanted to cry from relief that she found her here, that even after the time it took to get here, Sylvia was right where she said she would be. She wanted to do everything in her power to make sure that Sylvia never left again. She felt herself slowly moving towards her, as though the mirage would disappear if she got too close. "I just couldn't stay away anymore. I didn't want to."

Sylvia grabbed Karen's hand as soon as she got close enough to touch and pulled her in. "I'm really glad you're here." She brushed her lips against Karen's, softly at first, quickly becoming more and more urgent. It was crazy how easily they slipped into their old ways. Frantically tugging at the fabric that clung to their bodies until they were free. Breath upon newly exposed skin. Kisses like dynamite. Suddenly, the old worry of someone walking in to find them crept around Karen's mind. And just as suddenly, she realized that no one knew where she was right now, that Elliot wouldn't appear because his ring was nowhere to be found. She laughed at herself and didn't realize she had done it out loud. "What's so funny?" Sylvia asked, breathless and smiling.

"Nothing, I just...can't believe it took me this long to get here."

They stumbled into the bedroom and landed on the mattress. Karen's lips never once left Sylvia's skin.

* * *

 _1998_

It wasn't the romantic ideal, but it was theirs. A place of after-hours privacy. A place where they could take off the masks to reveal their true selves. A place where no one would guess their presence once the sun went down. No husbands. No roommates. No one in the world but a redhead and a dark haired woman.

The moonlight spilled in through the windows of Grace Adler Designs when they walked in and kicked off their shoes. Grace took their coats and threw them over her desk while Karen made a beeline for the window and pushed it open just enough for her to reach out to the fire escape, where she kept a bottle of gin and a bottle of vodka, perfectly chilled by the New York cold for special occasions and pick-me-ups. "Pick your poison," Karen grinned when she pulled herself back into the office, a bottle in each hand.

"Karen, when the hell did you do this?" Grace asked as she took the vodka from Karen.

"Right around the time you nixed my mini bar idea." She smirked as she grabbed a couple of mugs from the coffee station, held one out while Grace poured herself a generous serving. She reveled in the redhead's look of disbelief as she filled her mug with gin and took a sip.

Grace sat on Karen's desk and brought the mug to her nose, felt the alcohol sting as she breathed it in. "It's not like you need it. Between this and the desk flask you don't think I know about, I'd say you're doing okay for yourself."

"Stick with me, kid, and I'll give your liver a run for its money." Karen couldn't help but lovingly laugh into her gin when she saw the grimace on Grace's face that tends to come with an overzealous gulp of straight vodka. "I would have mixed that in something for you, but...you know...no mini bar…"

"Okay, new rule: from now on, I defer to you for everything." She reached out for Karen's hand and felt the charge as their fingers intertwined. "Hey," she murmured. "I never thanked you for taking me out tonight. For a celebration, for a date, for whatever. It felt really good to be out with you."

Karen set her mug down on the desk beside Grace and brushed her curls behind her ear. "Well, we can only steal away to the swatch room so many times before we need a change of scenery."

Grace took a smaller sip and could feel it loosen her inhibitions. "Speaking of...I seem to recall some unfinished business in the swatch room the other day." That smile, the one that sparked fire. That voice, the one that sunk deep into her register. They made sure that Karen was rooted where she stood. Grace let her leg slide up the dark haired woman's thigh before she wrapped both of them around her waist, drawing her closer. Karen wanted to touch-oh, she wanted to touch-but she was always nervous about scaring Grace off. Even now, when she wasn't making the first move, she was waiting for her to pull back, to deem this a mistake. Carefully, she let her finger trace the redhead's jawline until she landed underneath her chin and drew Grace's lips to her own.

"Your roommate's timing is terrible," Karen said when she broke the kiss.

The shine in the redhead's eyes was blinding. "I don't see him anywhere."

Grace leaned in and could smell the gardenia that rose from Karen's skin. She collided with Karen's lips and tasted the gin that spiked them. It all went to her head in the most brilliant high. She felt Karen's hand riding up her thigh and silently cursed herself for choosing the pants over the skirt this morning. She wanted the contact; she craved the charge. And the instant Karen took to catch her breath was the instant Grace pulled her blouse over her head and tossed it by the door, her bareness attracting the dark haired woman's touch like a magnet. She felt that familiar climb of Karen's fingers up her spine, landing on the clasp of her bra, and then a pause. Grace was fully aware of how far they were about to go. But of all people, she never expected Karen to be one who was cautious. She could almost hear the gears turning in Karen's mind as she pulled back to look her in the eye.

"It's okay," the redhead whispered as she held Karen's face in her hands. "It's just me."

 _It's okay._ That was what Karen needed to hear. She was hungry, but she was hesitant. Grace, she knew, had never been with another woman. What they had done until now was one thing; Karen could plant her kiss on Grace's skin, let her hands travel the curves of the redhead's body in the swatch room, and it was all still fun and games. But this, right now, was a line waiting to be crossed. And Grace was telling her to cross it. She unclasped the redhead's bra and let it drop to the floor. "God, you're stunning." The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop them; Grace's smile made her realize she wouldn't have stopped them even if she could. Her fingers rode the slope of Grace's throat to the curve of her breast, lingered as she took the sheer beauty of this woman in. This was the Grace she always wanted to know, the one only she was allowed to know. The one, deep down, she was hoping to find. Grace pressed her body against Karen's, traced the edge of her ear with her tongue, and Karen knew she was about to race past the line and never look back.

In one swift motion, Karen lifted Grace from her place on the desk-the redhead's legs still wrapped around her waist-and carried the weight of her in her arms. She felt Grace pulling at the zipper of her dress as her kiss hungrily met the redhead's breasts. They stumbled into the middle of the office when Grace's feet hit the floor, and she slid the dress and bra off Karen's body. She fell to her knees on the throw rug, taking Karen by the hands and leading her down with her. On her back, she saw Karen hovering above, those gorgeous hazel eyes staring back at her, and she knew she couldn't wait one second longer.

"Come on," Grace murmured, a smirk slowly playing across her face. She plunged her fingers into Karen's hair, brought her to her lips. "What are you waiting for?"

Karen started her journey slowly, not entirely convinced that Grace wouldn't change her mind. Kisses down her neck, tongue along her breast. It lit a fire inside of Grace that she wanted to burn through the night. She combed her fingers through Karen's hair and guided her down her torso, sighing with every kiss that caressed her skin along the way. Karen's lips traveled around Grace's navel as her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her pants. Why the hell were there so many buttons? She lifted her head to meet the redhead's gaze. "You couldn't have gone with the skirt today?" she quipped as she finally got them undone.

Grace raised her hips for Karen to slide them off and couldn't believe she was making her laugh at a moment like this. "Next time, I'll try to plan accor-" she gasped when she felt Karen drawing circles with her tongue, slow and drawn out at first, picking up the pace when the redhead least expected it, and back again. "Kar-Karen," she managed, breathless and quaking. She felt the rise and fall of it in her core, moaning at the tease. "Oh my god." She arched her back as Karen's fingers grazed the length of her thighs, her touch running along Grace's skin in the most thrilling sensation. Her hands started grasping for something-anything-before wrapping around the leg of her desk, anchored to it like she was waiting to be catapulted into the night. She felt that ecstatic charge fluttering to life as Karen fell into a steady rhythm, the strength of it making it impossible to catch her breath. Her legs were scrambling to find the solid ground she knew didn't exist as the charge became too much to contain. She cried out, her body going limp as her frenzy filled the air inside the office walls. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to stabilize her breath, stunned. Stunned at how Karen just knew where to go, what to do when she got there. Stunned that Karen cared enough to go there at all.

She never had this with Danny. She never had this with anyone.

No one made her feel the way Karen Walker made her feel.

Grace reached down to bring Karen back to her lips, excited by the taste of them. "Where have you been hiding my whole life?" she asked, her voice giving out.

"Sorry I had to take the long way around," Karen murmured. "But I'm glad I'm finally here." She spotted a couple of throw pillows under Grace's desk-abandoned as part of a project long forgotten-and reached for them, sliding one underneath Grace's head. She tucked a curl behind the redhead's ear and took in the glow of her. She couldn't take her eyes off of her.

"Do you think…" Grace said after a moment, "this would have happened sooner...if I had let you put in the mini bar?"

Karen saw the redhead's smile growing and she burst into laughter. "Well, luckily you're deferring to me for everything now, and I refuse to have any more oversights happen on my watch," she joked.

Grace giggled as she threaded her fingers with Karen's. She felt weightless. She felt like she was in a dream. She wanted Karen to float with her. "Lie down," she whispered as she propped herself up on her elbow, her fingers tracing Karen's collarbone.

"Gracie, you know you don't have to…"

"I know. I want to. I want you to feel the way I feel."

Karen smiled as she rested her head on her pillow. She felt Grace's careful touch, the way she started to ride Karen's curves and stopped. For all the confidence Grace had exuded up until this point-pulling her into the swatch room, playing under the table at dinner, the way she drew Karen in and kissed the gin off of her lips-the dark haired woman could see the nervousness in her eyes now, still in the throes of something so new. "Grace," she whispered before she repeated the redhead's own words back to her. "It's okay. It's just me."

Grace saw the fondness in Karen's eyes and realized she was safe. She began with what she knew: that she could make Karen sigh if she kissed the right spot on her neck, that Karen would bite down on her lower lip if she traveled to the dark haired woman's collarbone. This was familiar. This, she was used to. But she wanted to explore. She planted kisses all along Karen's body, noticed a small tattoo under her ribcage, one more at her hip, and wondered if Karen would ever stop surprising her. She found that Karen was already wet when she slid her hand underneath her panties and was overwhelmed with the idea that her own pleasure played a part in that. She heard Karen's moans as she moved, watched as Karen closed her eyes and threw her head back, and couldn't believe this was because of her. The adrenaline, the exhilaration that comes with satisfying the one you care about; Grace completely understood it now. "I can't stop looking at you when you're like this," she said.

"Then don't stop," the dark haired woman said in between breaths.

Karen inhaled sharply when she felt Grace inside her. "Oh, good lord, yes," she cried out. She clung to Grace for dear life, matched the rhythm of her hips with the rhythm of the redhead's fingers. Her breath got quicker, her voice shuddered every time she tried to call out Grace's name. And when she reached the apex of that unmistakable surge, she pressed her mouth to Grace's neck, muffling her cries, kissing the redhead's skin when it was over. She dropped her head back down on the pillow, wove her fingers into Grace's moon-soaked curls. "Where have _you_ been hiding my whole life?" she asked with a laugh.

"Oh, I've always been here," Grace said as she pulled Karen's coat down from her desk and draped it over them. "I was just waiting for you to find me." She settled into the crook of Karen's arm and wrapped herself around the dark haired woman's body, listening to Karen's heartbeat in one ear and the hustle of the city below them in the other.

There were words she was excited and terrified by all at once, slowly forming with each minute spent with Karen. Ever since the cabin, Grace could feel the words in her throat, begging for an escape. She lifted her head to see Karen resting peacefully on the throw pillow. Hair tousled, completely bare; she could hardly stand how beautiful the woman was in this moment. And the words couldn't help but hit the air. "I love you," she whispered, thinking that Karen must be oblivious. It was practice for the real moment, just to see how they sounded in her voice, how they felt coming out of her mouth. She liked the weight of them on her tongue.

She nestled herself back into Karen's arms, re-draped the coat over their bodies. She tried to close her eyes, finding it impossible to will herself to sleep when every bit of her being felt so charged with life. She didn't think Karen heard her, but the dark haired woman took her hand and kissed her palm before the voice she had come to depend on so fiercely said the words she had always wanted to hear in that lilt.

"I love you, too, Grace."


	16. All That Time You Missed

" _ **And the easiest path to a broken heart  
**_ _ **Is to keep moving  
**_ _ **Could we have saved ourselves this walk  
**_ _ **By standing still?"  
**_ _ **-Erin McKeown, "All That Time You Missed"**_

 _1984: Age 25_

 _From the diary of Karen Popeil: "Twenty-five years on this earth, and I still haven't learned a damn thing. This is what I get for willingly repeating my mistakes."_

She didn't want to jinx it; it helped that she couldn't talk about it with anyone. But she was slowly starting to feel like her old self. And it was all Sylvia's fault. Karen was apprehensive at first, even after she finally made use of the keys Sylvia had given her. It felt unreal to be with Sylvia again. She knew what six years had done to her, how they had changed her. She couldn't begin to imagine how they could have changed Sylvia. But as she spent more and more time in that apartment, it began to feel as though they had driven away from college together, leaving North Carolina in the dust, rewriting the history the were robbed of.

It was incredible.

Karen quickly fell into a routine that was second nature to her. Every day, she would see Jordan off to work, impatient on the days he decided to go in late. When he finally left, she would stay where she was for a few minutes in case he forgot something on his way out, even though she knew he never did. And when she finally deemed it safe to move, she checked her makeup and raced out the door. Sylvia was always right there when she arrived. She always pressed her body to Karen's before Karen could get her coat off. Sylvia always led her to the bedroom, and they always spent hours in the world they created. There were times when they would venture outside, when they were brave enough to risk being seen by someone Karen knew. More often than not, though, they were perfectly content inside the apartment, free from judgment, free from unwanted opinions, free from guilt.

But there were signs, signs that were right in front of Karen's face, signs she happily ignored, signs that were screaming at her to wake up. She should have thought more of the ring. A week into the affair, Karen noticed the gold shine of Sylvia's wedding band on the nightstand. Her voice was caught on the question she didn't want to ask when Sylvia walked in and shrugged it off. "It was in my coat pocket. I'm trying to figure out what to do with it." Karen watched as Sylvia opened up the nightstand drawer and slid the ring into it, and it was somehow enough for her to keep moving.

She should have thought more of the evenings Sylvia cut short. Karen never wanted to leave the apartment, but when she inevitably did, it was at the last possible moment. The late nights of college carried over. She would waltz back into her own home long after the sun went down, sometimes even after Jordan came back from his own rendezvous. Once or twice, she was daring enough to spend the night; Jordan never said a word about her absence, if he even noticed it. But those late nights were punctuated by early evenings. Karen heard Sylvia's explanations: "I'm just a little tired." "I'm feeling under the weather. I don't want you to catch it." And it was somehow enough for her to keep moving.

She should have thought more of Sylvia's trip away from the city over Christmas. Sylvia was no longer tied to Elliot; as far as Karen knew, she was no longer in touch with her family in North Carolina. Karen knew Jordan would be claiming he had to work over the holiday, and was looking forward to spending it with Sylvia. But a few days before she was to leave, Sylvia filled Karen in on her plans. Karen felt Sylvia's breath on her skin as she explained, "I had this planned before I ran into you, I'm so sorry." And it was somehow enough for her to keep moving.

It was the night before Christmas Eve that made her wish she had stayed still.

Karen knew that Sylvia would be gone in the morning, and she wanted to make the most of their last night together before the new year. She found a restaurant she knew Jordan had never been to, one where it wasn't likely she would run into anyone who knew her husband, and made a reservation. She came to the apartment with her best dress over her arm, with every intention on taking Sylvia on a legitimate date, something she was never able to do six years ago. Sylvia's eyes lit up when she heard Karen's plan, immediately ran into the bedroom to try to figure out what to wear. She picked out a dress and laid it on the bed before moving to the shower to freshen up. Karen offered to make drinks to start their evening off right, before they had to be at the restaurant, and Sylvia was all for it. "There should be some gin in one of the kitchen cabinets," she said. "Whatever else you need is in the fridge."

Karen made her way to the kitchen, started opening the cabinets one by one, coming up empty each time. She got to the final one when she noticed Sylvia's open day planner near a bouquet of withering flowers. She didn't mean to, but her eyes wandered to yesterday's plan; _El at 7:30_ the only thing written down, along with the address of the bar Karen took her to after their surprise reunion in the park. She flipped through the rest of December's pages, saw the same thing written down a handful of times, each date corresponding to one in which Karen left early.

She was starting to feel sick. She spotted a card nestled inside the bouquet and carefully picked it up. She remembered Elliot's handwriting all too well, from the notes he would slip under the door of their dorm, when all they wanted was to shut out the world. She saw the same curves on the card, in a hopeful note she couldn't stomach. Suddenly, she flashed back to seeing Sylvia's ring on the nightstand, realizing she had seen it the day after one of their early nights. She thought of all the times Sylvia made excuses, realizing she made them so she could meet Elliot. She thought of Sylvia's Christmas trip, realizing she meant to spend the holiday with her husband all along.

How long after they found each other in the park did Sylvia start to reconcile with him? Were they already giving it another try when she first called Karen's name?

She saw the edge of a wallet-sized photo peeking out of the pages of the day planner, and she knew in her core that it was nothing she wanted to see. But she had to. Her finger lingered on the corner for a moment before she took hold of it to see Sylvia and Elliot smiling back at her, their daughter seated happily in between them. Sylvia had never once mentioned her little girl. Sylvia hadn't mentioned a lot of things. To her, the photo might have been a reminder of the way things used to be for her, and could be again.

To Karen, it was the final straw.

In a few months, when she could look back on it all without the sting of betrayal as prominent as it once was, she would finally be able to see all her time with Sylvia for what it was. Her life with Jordan was spent numb, glazed over, enough for her to make it through. Sylvia had sparked her back into feeling, her senses so overloaded with it that she couldn't clearly see the reality directly in front of her. There was nothing there but the craving, the intense desire to just touch Sylvia, to have Sylvia touch her. It squashed the need for deep and meaningful conversation, for a connection that was anything other than nostalgic. And when she was finally outside of it, all she could remember was the physical. When she thought about it, the physical was the only thing she could remember about the first time around, too. In college, she was fueled by lust mistaken for love. It started in a secret passionate frenzy, stayed that way until the very end. She could only remember late nights. She could only remember talking about running away together simply to get out of the shadows, not because they had any kind of future.

When you take away the thrill, what's left?

All of the time Karen spent sitting still, a drink in her hand as she blocked everything out, was Sylvia doing the same thing? Did she finally get tired of it, too? Did she come to New York with the sole purpose of seeking Karen out? Karen knew she didn't have a malicious bone in her body, that she was likely trying to feel something the way Karen wanted to feel something. But she wondered if Sylvia did what she had done, if she, too, remembered their connection to be deeper than it was. She was desperate for something real. They certainly didn't have it during their fated reunion. Did they even have it at all?

Years later, Karen would run into Sylvia one last time. She would come out of a store on Fifth Avenue and spot Sylvia guiding Pamela Swanson along by the small of her back, and she would try and fail to pass by unrecognized. She would learn that Sylvia was still with Elliot, that she had another child with him. She would learn that living in the same Connecticut neighborhood made it easier for Pam and Sylvia to sneak around together, playing out the plotline of some tragic 1950s pulp novel. She would say a hasty goodbye and wonder how you could be satisfied if you never got all of the one you love, or of the one you thought you loved.

But now, she felt the punch to her gut. Now, she was out of breath from running towards Sylvia, only to slam into a brick wall. Karen heard her call out, "Did you find it?" from the open door of the bathroom. The gin had been long forgotten. But she found what she needed. "Yeah, honey," she called back. She ran into the living room, picked up the coat and the dress and the purse she threw onto the couch on her way in. She reached into her coat pocket and grasped the cold metal she was searching for.

She left Sylvia's keys next to the day planner on the kitchen counter and walked out the door before Sylvia could ever know she was gone.

* * *

 _1998_

Karen didn't expect to be so taken with Jack McFarland. When he burst into Grace Adler Designs weeks ago, she wasn't quite sure what to make of the ball of frenetic energy rolling around the office. But she quickly realized how much fun she could have whenever she was by his side. When he invited her to join him for dinner and drinks tonight, she immediately said yes; she knew Grace couldn't get away, and she knew that she would rather be in the presence of someone warm and full of life instead of being stuck in a cold and lonely wing of the manse all evening. She kissed Grace goodnight as the redhead left work for the day and settled into her seat with her magazine, happy to wait for her new friend in a place she actually liked. Jack made a show of picking her up as she was locking the office up, and as he was filling their cab with conversation, she made a game out of trying to pinpoint where he was taking her. It wasn't until the cab slowed to a stop in front of their destination that she took a look outside of her window. She saw the building and her heart sank.

She wished she had known he was taking her to Will and Grace's apartment before she accepted the invite.

"Um, Jackie?" she asked as they stepped out of the cab, her mind scrambling to keep her cool. "Honey, I just left work. Why would I want to spend more time with my boss?" She couldn't look him in the eye; she knew if she did, he would be able to sense it. She didn't trust herself to glance at him without spilling everything.

"Come on, Kare. You don't know her outside of the office." She stifled a laugh and hoped he didn't notice. If he only knew… "I mean, she looks like she dresses with all the lights off, but you'll have a good time tonight, I promise."

She spent the elevator ride trying to slow down her mind. _It won't be a big deal if you don't act like it's a big deal._ She played the phrase over and over in her head, matching it with the rise and fall of her breath. Karen knew that Grace never told Will about the cabin, about what they really meant to each other, about anything. Usually, it didn't bother her; she had had her share of clandestine affairs and was fine with keeping the secret. But the second she walked into that apartment, she would be handing Grace the shovel the redhead would use to dig herself a deep hole. And with Will's eyes on them, with Jack's eyes on them, she wouldn't be able to help Grace climb back out again.

She let out a sigh. _Forgive me, Gracie_ , she thought as they walked through the door of apartment 9C.

"I brought a plus one!" Jack exclaimed as he dropped himself down on the couch.

"Of course you did," Will said, his back turned towards them as he grabbed a fourth wine glass. He went to set another place at the table, surprised to see Karen where he expected Jack's latest fling to be. "Karen. Hi. I didn't think this would be your kind of scene."

"First time for everything, honey," she said dismissively as she took in her surroundings. She knew that Grace only moved in after she left Danny, that her own personal style was likely relegated to her bedroom. But she knew Grace's touch when she saw it, and couldn't help but smile to herself over how Grace was able to take her best friend's taste and put her own spin on it. Her glance shifted around the living room until she met the eyes of the shocked redhead coming towards her from the hallway, and she felt her heart start to jackhammer.

"What are you doing here?" Grace whispered, her eyes darting around the room to make sure the boys weren't paying attention.

"Jack asked me to dinner. I had no idea he was bringing me here. I can leave if you want me to."

"Don't. Stay. If this goes south, at least we've got a getaway cabin."

Karen saw the smallest hint of a smile play on Grace's face and tried to hold in her laughter. "You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?"

The redhead nodded to Will and Jack and sighed. " _They're_ not going to make it easy."

Karen wondered how long she would be able to hide the fact that she was on edge. She sat down to dinner with Grace to her left, Jack to her right, Will's eyes on her from across the table, and she was sure she would crack. But the wine started flowing, and if the boys thought something was off, they didn't mention it. She laughed at Jack's jokes, managed to get a smile out of Will over some off-the-cuff remark. She started relaxing in her seat, let her left hand drop to her lap before it traveled to Grace's thigh. She tried to pass her smile off as a reaction to something Jack had said when she felt the warmth of Grace's hand wrap around her own. She started to think that she would be able to make it through this evening unscathed.

It was in the lull in conversation while they opened up the second bottle of wine that Will went in for the kill.

"Oh, Gracie, I meant to tell you. I ran into Ryan Cahill today."

Grace filled her glass. "Ryan Cahill? From college? God, I haven't thought about him in years. Remember the way he used to look at you? I always felt like I needed to give you two some alone time."

"Turns out, it wasn't me he was looking at." He smiled at the surprised look on her face. "He was asking about you, if you were seeing anyone. And he gave me his number to pass along to you."

"Oh...well...maybe I'll give him a call," she said, hoping that was the end of it. Underneath the table, she gave Karen's hand a soft squeeze.

"Yeah...or you could just wait until he calls to ask you to dinner tomorrow night."

Grace choked on her wine and let go of Karen's hand. Karen couldn't watch, simply trained her eyes on the Merlot in her glass. "What?" Grace asked when she finally caught her breath. "Will, how could you set me up without talking to me first?"

"I didn't set you up! He asked if you were seeing anyone, I gave him our number, and I said I thought you might be free tomorrow night. Look, it's been a while since Danny, and I just thought it would be good for you to get back out there again. And you already kind of know the guy, so even if it doesn't work, at least you'll have eased your way back into things. What...you haven't met anyone, have you?"

Grace could sense Karen turning rigid in her seat. She took a breath, plotting her next move. "That...is not the point," she said slowly, careful not to throw her glance to the dark haired woman seated to her right. "I just think I should have a say in my own love life."

"So, say no when he calls! I honestly didn't think this was going to be a big deal."

A heavy silence filled the room. Karen knew if she tried to say anything, her voice would give her away. But she needed someone to break this tension. "Didn't think we'd get dinner _and_ a show," Jack whispered to her. She knew then that she couldn't be here one second longer than she had to. She was desperately searching for an out that wouldn't out them, a moment when she could leave and the reason why wasn't obvious. She barely paid attention to the awkward small talk that followed, and kept a close eye on the wine left in the bottle as she finished her glass. When they drank the last of it, she stood up from her seat.

"Well, it's been fun, kids, but I think I need to call it a night," she said as she kissed Jack on the cheek and started for her coat and purse.

"I'll walk you to the elevator," Grace announced as she followed the dark haired woman out the door. She saw Karen furiously pressing the elevator call button and grabbed a hold of her wrist. "Hey," she said softly, willing those hazel eyes to meet hers. "I didn't know he was going to do that. I'm so sorry."

"I knew this would happen eventually," Karen said under her breath. But Grace heard it. Grace always heard her.

"You knew what would happen?"

Karen sighed to buy herself one more second before the avalanche. "You and I will never be able to work, because you're too close to Will. We can't even be in the same room all together without it becoming a total disaster. How many times did you have to double check your words tonight?"

"Karen, tonight was a fluke. I would have been quicker on my feet if I knew you were coming."

"But that's the point, you shouldn't have to lie at all!"

"Well, it's not like I'm the only one. What about Stan?"

"Oh, please, Grace. I don't love Stan. But I know how much you love Will. It's going to be harder and harder for you to lie to him about us. And when you get to the point where you have to make that decision, I'm not expecting you to pick me. I know how this goes. You should be with someone you can be with out in the open."

Grace stood there, stunned, unsure of where to go from here, of if she wanted to go there at all. "So, what," she said after a moment, "you want me to call Ryan? You want me to go out with him?"

The elevator opened to let Karen on. The dark haired woman pushed the button for the first floor and kept her face as emotionless as she possibly could when she faced the redhead. "You do what you have to do, honey."

The sour taste of her words lingered long after the elevator doors closed.

The next day, Karen kept her distance at work, knowing that any step they took towards each other would sting. Keeping to her desk, only speaking when work needed to be done. Right back where they started, before Karen let herself fall, before Grace caught her. She knew if she kept moving towards the redhead, it would destroy her. She could feel Grace's eyes on her throughout the day, relieved when Will came by to take her to lunch. But it wasn't just that she couldn't be around Grace; this office held too much now. It was more than she could bear. She packed up and left the office before Grace came back from lunch, retreating to the cold solitude of the manse, wondering why she keeps convincing herself to move forward when she knows the outcome every time.

Stan came home and went directly to his office upstairs. Karen didn't realize he was home for the night until she came out of the library to refill her drink and saw the light coming through the crack in his door. She made her way downstairs, fixed herself another gin and tonic, and was about to head back to the library when she heard a knock on the front door. She wanted to ignore it, go back upstairs, sit with her drink and her thoughts. But something-that last ounce of hope, maybe-pulled her to the door.

She let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding when she found Grace standing on the other side.

"He didn't call?" Karen asked, trying to keep a neutral tone, knowing that she failed.

"Oh, he called. And I told him that I was sorry if Will misled him, but I'm seeing someone."

"Gracie, if that gets back to Will…"

"Then I will deal with it. Karen...I know that you've been through a lot, and I know that there have been people in your life who should have been there for you and weren't. I'm not going to be another name you can add to that list. So it's not as easy as we want it to be. When has anything ever been that way? That's not going to make me leave. It's not going to drive me to someone else. Kare, I love you. After everything," Grace said softly as she took Karen's hand in hers, "do you really think I could do that to you?"

All of this time, she told herself Grace was different. She told herself that Grace genuinely cared, that Grace wasn't constantly searching for a way out. That Grace was actually looking for her way in. It was one thing to keep telling herself this was so. But to have Grace standing in front of her, proving that it was so, was another thing entirely. She pulled Grace closer, brushed her lips against the redhead's as she led her inside. "Can you stay?" she asked.

"As long as you want me to," Grace smiled.

Karen grinned as she took Grace by the hand, led her to the bar where she fixed her a drink. As they climbed the stairs, she felt the flutter of exhilaration rise in her, growing with each step. She saw Stan's door, still closed, that sliver of light still shining from below. And when Grace stopped in her tracks, Karen knew she saw it, too. She squeezed Grace's hand. "He won't know you're here. I don't even think he knows I'm here."

The dark haired woman led the redhead to a guest bedroom at the end of the hall. She knew well enough not to take her to her own bedroom-on the off chance Stan surprised her and slept there tonight-but she realized this was the perfect place. She couldn't remember the last time she had actually set foot inside this room. There were no attachments to it; she could truly make it theirs. Karen locked the door and climbed into bed, letting her robe fall to the floor, watching the way Grace moved as she stripped down and joined her. The redhead reached over her to grab her drink from the nightstand, moving in to kiss the dark haired woman as she did it. Karen studied her as she took a sip and murmured, "Thank you."

"For what?" Grace asked, her brow furrowed.

"For breaking the cycle."

She knew Grace could never understand what that really meant, but she swore Grace looked like she did. In that moment, it felt as though she had finally reached her destination, the place she was always meant to end up. It didn't matter that they needed to keep quiet for fear of being caught, by Stan, by Will, by anyone. They had their own world. They had arrived.

They talked and laughed as they finished their drinks. They slept through the night in each other's arms. And Karen would not be able to recall a better night's sleep in all of her days in the manse.


	17. Like You Said

" _ **It's cold in here, the music is too loud  
I hate this place, I hate this crowd  
**_ _ **Should leave, I guess  
**_ _ **Oh, I know I should  
**_ ' _ **Cause it feels just like you said it would"  
**_ _ **-Tiger Lou, "Like You Said"**_

 _1985: Age 26_

 _From the diary of Karen Popeil: "You were right, Soph. You always were."_

 _Darling, if it doesn't make you happy, it isn't worth it._ The first time Sophie had said it, she was in bed next to Karen, watching her furrow her brow in frustration over the paperback in her hands. It was the same paperback Karen had furrowed her brow in frustration over the week before, and the week before that. And as much as Sophie admired the determination Karen had to finish the book, she knew it had become more of a chore than anything. That night, she had kissed Karen's cheek, wrapped her hand over the open book, gently pulled it from her love's grip. And just as Karen was about to ask her why, she murmured it. _Darling, if it doesn't make you happy, it isn't worth it._ It was so simple, so obvious, that Karen couldn't help but laugh at herself for not thinking of it herself. _Toss it_ , she giggled into Sophie's ear and watched as the book dropped to the floor. Eventually, the book would get kicked under the bed, long forgotten and collecting dust. Eventually, it would be hard to recall what the book even was. Eventually, Sophie would be gone and Karen would never set foot in that bedroom again. But from then on, those words became the barometer she used to measure her life. Even when she slipped into the numbness of her marriage with Jordan, she could still hear it in the back of her mind, although she no longer had the energy to do anything about it.

But now, her house was full of strangers, present and future clients that her husband needed to impress. Now, she sat in the corner with her drink in one hand while the other clutched at the arm of her chair, white-knuckled and stir crazy. Now, like so many other times, her mind was screaming those words at her. Except now, she felt the sting of them in every fiber of her being, and it was driving her mad. She was furious. Furious at Sylvia for thrusting her back into feeling. Furious at herself for letting Sylvia do it. Furious at Jordan for not noticing a difference. In the months after she left Sylvia, Karen had tried so hard to fall back into the sedated, detached way of life she had spent years cultivating. But it was no use; in just a few short weeks, Sylvia had exposed every single nerve in Karen's body, and she couldn't stop feeling everything.

Which made it the perfect time for Jordan to throw a networking party in their home.

In her defense, Karen tried to make an effort. She knew how these things went; she was a prop, the pretty wife to show off to Jordan's family oriented clients so they know how much he cherishes the sanctity of marriage, smiling and nodding at the right points in conversation, never saying anything that could be taken the wrong way because she never really says anything. It never seemed like an impossible task before. But she just could not bear to do it now. The music Jordan picked for the festivities was screeching in her head. She didn't know anybody here, but hated them simply for wanting to do business with someone like her husband. And on top of everything, Sophie's words matched themselves to the beat of the music in her mind.

 _Darling, if it doesn't make you happy, it isn't worth it._ This didn't make her happy. This wasn't worth it. She needed to make a run for it.

All she had to do was make it to the staircase, to reach the sanctuary and silence of her bedroom. Her eyes shifted around the room, trying and failing to locate Jordan. She figured he must be checking on something in the kitchen, maybe giving orders to the staff he hired for the night somewhere away from the eyes of his guests. It was the perfect time to make a getaway. Slowly, Karen rose from her seat and started inching her way towards the staircase. She had her hand on the bannister when she saw her husband making a beeline for her, and felt herself deflate.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jordan asked in a sharp whisper as he caught her arm. "I need you by my side tonight." He let his touch slide to the small of her back and led her to a group of men in the corner of the room. She took a breath and plastered on a smile, zoning out before the introductions were even made. She killed time trying to distinguish between the three men standing in front of her before she realized just how invested Jordan was in whatever point he was trying to make. His hand slipped away from her back. He was focused on everyone but her. She took one step back, just to test him. He didn't notice. One step more, and then another, and another. Jordan was too in his element to stop her. She was so close to peace, so close to solitude, and then...

"You see that guy talking to Popeil?" she jumped at the low voice coming from behind her, saw the hand reaching beyond her to point out Indistinguishable Man Number Two. "He built his company on good old fashioned family values. Right now, he's got his arm around his wife, probably raving about how strong his marriage is. And in about two hours, he'll be meeting his mistress at the bar in the hotel around the corner."

Karen scoffed, but she couldn't seem to look away from the scene he pointed out. "And you know this from personal experience?"

"I know this because we drink at the same bar. He's always sidling up to the same blonde, always keeping one hand on her and the other on his scotch."

"Sounds like he's got a lot in common with Jordan," she said, bringing her drink to her lips.

"And you know _that_ from personal experience?"

Karen turned to face her new acquaintance and flashed her wedding band, trying not to show how the genuine warmth in his eyes threw her off. "I guess you could say that."

"Ah. So I finally meet Karen Popeil," he said with a smile. "No disrespect to your husband, but I'm shocked you've stuck around this long. His last wife didn't."

She didn't care to hold in the laughter fighting to get out. She wished she could be surprised by his frankness, or by the fact that he didn't seem shocked to know that Jordan was sneaking around. She wished she cared that her husband was terrible at keeping his secrets. "Maybe I'm just curious to see how long my life can plateau," she said jokingly. "Maybe it's just better than the alternative," she said as her wry smile fell.

"Someone who cares for you?" he asked. It wasn't malicious, she knew. It was more genuine curiosity than anything. And she didn't blame him; if she were in his shoes, she would have wanted to know why anyone would choose this.

She shook her head. "Someone who could leave."

He was silent for a moment, realizing how serious she was, careful to pick his words. "Doesn't seem worth it if there's no risk," he said softly.

She could have countered with all of the risks that blew up in her face. She could have told him how tired it made her to sift through the debris every time. She could have written him off for presuming to know anything about her life and stormed up to her bedroom like she wanted to in the first place. Instead, she thought of how closely his words resembled Sophie's, and she owned it. "Well, I can't argue that," she replied.

"How did you end up with someone like Jordan Popeil in the first place?" he asked. He didn't apologize for being so forward. She didn't hate that he was.

"That," she sighed, "is a very long and complicated story, honey."

"Maybe one day, you can tell it to me."

The way he said it took her by surprise. He wasn't angling for anything. He obviously wasn't trying to get somewhere with Jordan by buddying up to his wife. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn he was simply offering friendship. And to be honest, she had been hard-pressed to find that lately. She looked around the room at all the people who didn't care that she was around, before she looked the one person who did in the eye. "It's too loud in here," she said as she grabbed his arm and led him away.

When they made it to the kitchen, Karen felt an immediate rush of relief. It was finally quiet; she could finally breathe. She made her way towards the counter with all of Jordan's backup bottles of liquor for the party. "Why did you start talking to me, anyway?" she asked when she turned to face him.

He shrugged. "You seemed to be as annoyed by this charade as I am. Your husband's already getting my money; what do I need all of this for? But if I don't make an appearance, I'll end up getting paranoid phone calls asking if I'm taking my business elsewhere."

"He's paranoid about losing everything but what actually matters."

"Your words, not mine," he laughed.

It wasn't often that Karen felt safe with someone, and she understood that she barely knew this man. But she had the overwhelming feeling that she could say just about anything when it came to Jordan-when it came to anything, really-and he would keep it under lock and key. In a few hours, everyone would be gone, and the party would be over. And she wanted to make sure that at some point, he would come back. "This isn't fair, you know."

"What isn't?"

"You get to know me, but I don't even get your name? I think I should know who's about to pour me a drink," she said, her smile growing across her face. She rattled the remaining ice in her glass as he reached for the closest bottle of vodka.

"How rude of me," he grinned as he opened the bottle. He raised it to Karen's glass. "Stanley Walker." He poured until she motioned for him to stop, fixed a drink of his own. "To new friends," he said as their glasses collided. And as she took a sip, she marveled at how suddenly this party had improved.

* * *

" _ **The music stops, and in the blink of an eye  
**_ _ **She tells me to give it a try  
**_ _ **Could stay, I guess  
**_ _ **Oh, I know I could  
**_ ' _ **Cause it feels just like you said it would."**_

 _1998_

Grace had learned from her mistake. And she had a plan.

When she woke up, the sun was shining in through the windows of the guest room and she found that Karen had burrowed deeper into her arms in the middle of the night. Grace took in the floral scent of her hair, felt Karen's breath warm against her chest, her fingers sprawled across her stomach. And she knew she couldn't give up this feeling; she knew she couldn't be shoved into a world in which she had to worry about who saw her linger just a second too long when she touched Karen. Her mind started putting together the pieces of her plan as she smoothed Karen's hair and kissed the crown of her head. "Kare," she murmured. "Wake up."

"Mmmmm," Karen groaned as she stirred in the redhead's arms. "What time is it?"

Grace looked over at the clock. "It's 8:15."

"Oh no, I'm going to be late, I hope the boss doesn't fire me." Grace should have known that the dark haired woman's brand of sarcasm would come through loud and clear, even first thing in the morning. It was impressive, really.

"Since when do you ever come into work before 11 anyway?" she smirked. "But since we're on the subject...I don't have any meetings scheduled today, do I?"

"Gracie, how do I know? I'm not that kind of assistant."

"I was just thinking, it's Friday. Maybe we could ditch work, get out of here for the weekend."

The dark haired woman opened her eyes a little wider. "How far out of here?"

"Like, Vermont-level out of here."

Karen broke out into a grin before she brought Grace's lips to hers. "I'll drive," she whispered.

It was that easy.

They waited until Grace was certain Will had left for work to drive by her apartment. Karen idled by the curb while the redhead raced up to the ninth floor. She packed a weekend bag, she grabbed her copy of the latest issue of _Metropolitan Home_ for the trip. And when she thought she had everything she needed, she grabbed a pen and a notepad, and scribbled down a phone number and a note for Will:

 _I need to clear my head so I can work. Be back Sunday night. Call if you need me._

She put the note on the dinner table and hoped that would stave off another fight.

The sun had all but set when they reached the cabin. They had picked up takeout in town, broke open a bottle of wine, put on some music while they ate. And when the empty plastic cartons were all that was left of their meal, Karen stoked the fire while Grace grabbed another bottle and sat down on the couch. The redhead filled their glasses as the dark haired woman joined her, settling in with her glass. Grace felt Karen drawing circles on her thigh with her free hand and wondered if she realized how often she did that. She wondered if Karen just instinctively knew how much she loved it, how much it calmed her, how she didn't want it to stop.

"Did you mean what you said the other night?" she asked, relaxed enough to let the question she had been itching to ask slip through her filter. "You don't love Stan?" She glanced down at her glass, hoping she didn't just ruin their weekend because of her uncontrollable curiosity.

If the question bothered Karen, she didn't show it. She shrugged like the answer was obvious. "Well, yeah," she said. "That became apparent over time. We were friends. I didn't realize how much I needed that. There was a time when I confused it with love, because god knows he paid more attention to me in the beginning than Jordan ever did. But eventually, everything faded away, and I just didn't have the energy to do anything about it. Besides, it was still better than my last marriage."

"I don't get that. I don't get why you would settle for something you know isn't going to make you happy just because it's being offered to you. If I did that, I wouldn't even be here right now. I'd have Danny's ring on my finger, living in an apartment that is way too small for two people, exhausted from trying to keep the peace between him and Will."

"Gracie, it's complicated. Every time I went for happiness, it was yanked away. By the time I met Jordan, I was just trying to protect myself. He was disgusting, but at least I knew that I could never be disappointed if he was always at his lowest."

Grace slid her arm around Karen's shoulders. "I can't believe you did that to yourself."

"I couldn't argue with the past."

"Sophie?"

Karen was taken aback. It had been so long since she had heard Sophie's name in anyone's voice but her own. When she took Grace to Washington Square, the redhead only referred to Sophie as "Her." But the way Grace wrapped her voice around the name, with such care and such respect...she shouldn't have been surprised by it, but after spending so many years protecting her memory, her heart swelled to know that Grace understood. "She's part of it," she finally replied. "Then there's the girl I fell for in college, with the homophobic parents and insanely bitter boyfriend. The homecoming queen at the last high school I ended up in. All of my mother's mistakes. I could go on, really." She tried to make light of it at the end, but no matter how she spun it, her past was still a mess when you put everything together side by side.

"Well," Grace said as she banged her empty glass a little too loudly against the coffee table for emphasis. She felt Karen jump beside her and heard her laugh and murmur some joke under her breath about how maybe that glass of wine should be her last. "I'm going to be different."

Karen felt a wry smile crawl across her face. "Are you now?"

"Yeah." The redhead moved in a little closer. "Because I am going to love you for-"

"Don't." Karen took her by the hand and hoped she would stop. "Don't do that. Don't tell me you'll love me forever, Grace."

Grace furrowed her brow. "Why not?"

"Forever doesn't exist. Forever isn't true. You don't know what will happen tomorrow. I just want to soften the blow as much as possible when it comes."

"Karen…" She wanted to say that it would never come to that, but she stopped herself. She knew that it wouldn't help. She knew that Karen wouldn't want to hear it. And she knew, deep down, that Karen was right; she couldn't promise forever when she couldn't predict what would happen the next day, the next week, the next month. But she could promise one thing. "Okay then...I'll love you today."

The redhead saw the light flashing in Karen's eyes. "Just today," the dark haired woman smirked, a hint of playful skepticism in her voice.

"Yep. Just today. That's all I've got."

Karen squinted. "And tomorrow?"

"Eh," Grace said with a spark in her eyes. "We'll see."

Karen laughed as she pulled the redhead into her and felt Grace's lips on her skin. They hadn't noticed that the music stopped a long time ago, that it was just one voice against another until they caught each other's kiss and fell into silence. For a second, Karen wanted to take back everything she had just said, because she swore she could taste forever on Grace's wine-sweetened lips. In that moment, she felt as though she had never been so close to forever in her life.

The next morning, Karen woke up and found that she was in bed alone; the sheets on Grace's side had grown cold. Only two nights in a row of sleeping in the same bed, and it already felt strange to wake up without seeing Grace next to her. And when she realized that the redhead wasn't in the cabin at all, she had the sinking feeling that she had finally scared her off. She imagined Grace waking up with the sun, sneaking off while she was still asleep to take a walk and collect her thoughts. Wondering how she fell into this. Wondering why Karen couldn't just let go of the past the way everyone else seemed to be able to. And then she would come back, ride out the rest of the weekend, and come Monday, they would keep their distance until these feelings fade away entirely.

It honestly wouldn't surprise her.

Karen walked downstairs, the aroma of fresh coffee hitting her as she made her way to the kitchen. Next to the full pot, she found that Grace had set out a mug for her, complete with a mini bottle of Baileys to put in with her coffee. On the back of last night's takeout menu, Grace had written a note:

 _I tried to get back before you woke up. I'll be back soon with breakfast. I love you today._

With a grin, she grabbed the pen Grace left behind, and underneath, wrote _I love you today, too._ She knew as soon as the redhead walked into the cabin, she would say it out loud. But to write it down, to see the words, brought a reality to it that she didn't realize she craved. She poured her coffee, marveling at how long her first instincts about Grace rang true, how confident she was that they would stay true, how amazing it was that she could change the course of her luck by trusting her heart to a spirited, honest redhead who had every intention of keeping it safe.

She thought about Sophie's words. _Darling, if it doesn't make you happy, it isn't worth it._ And she smiled as she picked up her mug.

This made her happy. This was worth it.


	18. Wire

" _ **You know I always found  
**_ _ **That my feet were dangling, looking for solid ground  
**_ _ **Is it maybe worth closing down the ivory tower  
**_ _ **And coming back down to earth?"  
**_ _ **-Minnie Driver, "Wire"**_

 _1985: Age 26_

 _From the diary of Karen Popeil: "He doesn't seem to want anything from me. And it doesn't feel like an act. I wish I didn't question it so much. But at least I'm starting to get used to feeling like I can touch solid ground for the first time in years."_

For the longest time, Karen felt as though she were strapped into a rollercoaster ride she never wanted to be on in the first place. Jordan pulled her up to the top of the biggest hill before bringing her to a total stop. If she looked over the edge at the dizzying height she had climbed, she would cry out for help when she knew no one could hear her. So she stopped looking. She got used to the dizzying heights, to not being able to see the track behind her or in front of her, to the perpetual state of limbo, to the chill of it all. She got used to everything. But when Sylvia came along again, she was sent hurtling down to the ground and back up again, through loops that made her sick to her stomach. And as much as she tried to get back to the top, because feeling stuck was better than feeling this, she was on an endless ride that exhausted her. She couldn't find a way off.

Then Stanley Walker came around, and suddenly, it didn't seem so bad.

It had been entirely too long since she had a friend that she didn't hate being around. She had tried to make nice with the wives of Jordan's colleagues, but she quickly realized that most of them were as empty as she was; they were just better than she was at hiding it around the ones who weren't. And adding empty to empty got you nowhere. Stan, though...Stan was definitely a challenge. He did business with Jordan, but seemed to be her husband's polar opposite. She listened to Jordan's stories about how Stanley Walker was admirably ruthless in his field, but every time she spoke to him, there was a softness that made it difficult to see any other side of him. She never expected to meet someone like him at one of Jordan's parties, much less find herself in his company time and time again. She liked it. He made everything else a lot more tolerable.

She started meeting Stan at the hotel bar he frequented, at first to see proof of Indistinguishable Man Number Two and his blonde mistress. Her eyes grew wide at the magnetic pull of the guy's hand on her body, even wider as they paid their tab and made their way to a room upstairs. It wasn't as though she had any room to judge-even though she _did_ take precautions with Sylvia, making sure they would never be seen-but it seemed to be the reaction Stan was looking for. Although, as time went on, she became certain she could tell him she what she had done with Sylvia, and he wouldn't be critical of her. As time went on, the novelty of Indistinguishable Man Number Two wore off, and they stopped paying him any mind. As time went on, she came to depend on their outings to recalibrate, to snap herself out of the daze she reverted to whenever she was with Jordan, the daze she had come to hate. As time went on, she trusted him with things she never once trusted her husband with.

As time went on, he made her realize there was no point in keeping a wedding ring on her finger if it was draining the life out of her.

Tonight, after a couple months of testing the waters, Karen slid her usual martini toward her as they settled into their usual spots at the bar, swirled the olives around her glass for a moment and murmured casually, "I'm starting to get kind of restless."

Stan didn't pretend to be unaware of what she was talking about. "And might I say, it's about damn time," he said after a sip of his scotch.

She laughed. "Tell me how you really feel, honey," she said wryly.

"You sure?" He said it with a smile, but Karen could hear the weight of it in his voice.

"Try me."

Stan took a breath. "When we met, you essentially told me that your marriage isn't worth the effort. But you're still in it, for reasons I don't entirely understand. How did it take you this long to get to the breaking point?"

Karen ran her finger around the rim of her glass and sighed. She knew she could trust him. And even though she knew it was safe, there was something about letting those words hit the air that made her nervous. "Right before Christmas," she said softly, "I ran into an ex, and we started things up again. I guess it woke me up."

He didn't even blink at the admission. "And now you're punishing yourself for something you know Jordan does constantly?"

"No, that's not it. I got so used to not feeling anything, I forgot how much it hurt when it ended the first time. I forgot how much every part of my past before the first time hurt. So when it ended again, it piled everything else up on top of it. And now I can't get back to the way it was before I ran into her."

"Good."

Karen's shock spilled across her face, unable to believe he thought anything could be gained from this. "Excuse me?" she said defensively.

"Maybe that will finally get you to move. Karen, you're young. This isn't what you do in your twenties. This is what you do down the road, when you're nervous about middle age and you think you've run out of options, so you settle for something just because it's there. This can't possibly be what you wanted for yourself."

No. This wasn't anywhere near the realm of what she wanted for herself. This wasn't anywhere near the realm of where she thought she would be when she was twenty-six years old. She had pictured happy hours in dives with her wife; instead, she found herself in places with dress codes, drowning any feelings in exorbitantly priced vodka on her emotionally unavailable husband's dime. She couldn't find the path she used to be on, and couldn't tell you how it felt when her life switched gears, because everything leading up to this was such a blur. "Plans change," she said with a shrug. "What can you do?"

"Whatever led you here...is it really enough to cut yourself off from life?"

He didn't know. He couldn't. For a moment, she wanted to defend her choices, to tell him how much sense it made to be where she was, but she couldn't find the voice to do it. Because at that moment, she got a flash of the reason why she needed a push, the reason that kept creeping up from the back of her mind, making itself more and more pronounced as the days went on: Sophie would not have wanted this for her. She wouldn't have wanted Karen to tap out when there was so much left to explore. Karen knew this was just one more thing to add to the list of ways in which she let Sophie down. Maybe it was finally time to start making it right.

"Honestly?" she said after a moment. "It might be. But I think it's starting to become less of a reason."

Stan studied her for a moment before he grabbed a napkin from the stack he saw behind the bar, while the bartender had his back turned to them. "Here," he said as he pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote down a name and number. He slid to Karen.

"What's this?" she asked.

"This is the name and number of a guy I know. He's a pretty decent divorce lawyer."

"Stanley…" she started to protest. He raised a hand to stop her.

"Just to give you something to think about," he said. "He's a friend; I trust him. He would take care of you. And you know I'm on your side...you know, if you need it."

She looked down at the napkin, traced Stan's handwriting with her finger, and thought about how everything got a little too real. But she also knew that this was the push she needed. It was the push that made her mind spin with possibility. It was too much, really. Karen shook her head, and tried to get them on a different, lighter course. "I thought we were supposed to have fun tonight," she said, plastering on a smile.

The look in Stan's eyes softened. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"Anything but this, honey."

She watched Stan smile as he tried to change the subject. She saw him signal the bartender for another round, and felt the chill of the martini glass as she wrapped her hand around it and brought it to her lips. She laughed at what Stan intended to be a joke, and responded to his stories. She made it look like she was concentrating on every single word he said.

But the whole time, she was thinking about Stan's friend, and how he could finally get this rollercoaster to stop.

* * *

 _1998_

"So, when were you gonna tell me about you and Grace?"

Karen startled, nearly knocking over the open bottle of nail polish on her desk. When Jack stopped by the office to keep her company while Grace was at a working lunch, she was expecting the typical lighthearted distraction that usually came along with him. He pulled up a chair next to her, grabbed the nail polish, and took her hand while catching her up on his own doings. But he knew how to use a lull in conversation to his advantage. Karen tried to collect herself, saw the sparkle in Jack's eyes as he awaited her reply. She didn't know whether to be furious or proud when she realized he knew exactly what he was doing. Still, she tried to deflect. "Poodle, I don't…"

"Oh, come on. Grace blows off that college guy and then goes away for the weekend. And when I try to call you, you've also conveniently disappeared?" He smiled at her as he slid the bottle of nail polish his way. "Don't try to fool me, Kare. I am _very_ well-versed in the ways of secret love."

"Devil," she muttered under her breath. For a moment, she thought about denying it. Coincidences happen, why would she sneak around, blah blah blah. But she knew he wasn't going to let this go. She sighed as she watched him paint a coat of crimson on her nails. "Does Will know?"

"Oh, no, no, no, she's not a bright one. Will _actually_ thinks Grace went away so she could work." Jack blew on her nails to dry them. "Other hand," he said as he motioned for Karen to switch it up. "Where'd ya go, anyway?"

"I have a cabin in Vermont. We go there when we don't want to feel like we're hiding."

"'We go there?!' Like, this has happened before?!"

His eyes were wild with scandal, and Karen knew she had to douse the flame before it got out of control. "Once," she said sternly, "right after she left Danny. But we weren't involved then, it was more so that she could get her head straight. Although, I guess that was probably the start of it."

Jack groaned. "God. Grace is so lucky. I wish one of my guys would whisk me away to a romantic rendezvous."

Karen let a smile play across her face. With all the love and affection she could muster, she asked, "Honey, can your guys even spell 'rendezvous?'"

He opened his mouth as if to speak, thinking as he stared off into space for a moment before his brow came crashing down in disappointment. "Oh," he said dismissively. He secured his hold on Karen's hand. "Anyway, I get it. Shake up the routine, have a little fun. Why do you think I'm seeing Tony _and_ Max right now?" Lord...she loved Jack, and she knew he meant well, but if her nails hadn't have been wet, she would have shaken him to get him to see that this was different. "Hey, maybe this will be good for Grace," he said with a little too much enthusiasm. "If she's spending all this time with you, your tastes are bound to rub off on her. Maybe you can finally show her how to wear patterns." Karen closed her eyes for a moment, thought about the striped blouse the redhead came to work in, and how it actually looked pretty stunning on her. "Or point her to a hair color that at least tries to look natural." She thought of Grace's wildfire curls and how she loved it when her fingers got lost in them as she pulled the redhead's lips to her own. It all got to be too much.

Karen knew that this was how the two of them operated, and she could usually roll with the punches, even if the punches were a bit of a stretch. But she couldn't take much more of this, if she was being honest. Not when Grace was the target. "Jackie, come on, that's not fair," she said softly.

"Fair? Karen, I watched you get two salespeople fired for fun last week. Since when do you care about fairness?" he laughed as he dipped the brush back in the polish, silencing himself the second he saw the look in his friend's eyes. His smile dropped. "Oh, my god. This isn't just for fun, is it? You love her."

Karen let an apprehensive smile start to show in this moment of truth. "Well, yeah, honey." She exhaled and couldn't believe how amazing it felt to say it out loud to someone other than Grace.

Jack's hand flew to his heart. "Wow," he whispered. "Kare, I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Poodle, it's complicated. She doesn't want it getting back to Will. And I don't blame her. He's not exactly my biggest fan."

Jack scoffed. "Don't even get me started on Will's taste," he said, watching her inevitable smile. He shrugged. "I think he's starting to warm up to you. You kinda hooked him in at dinner the other night."

"It's beside the point, anyway. I don't want to screw everything up because I couldn't keep a secret." She glanced down at her new manicure, hoping a change of subject would suddenly fall into her lap.

"Well," he said, deflating a bit as he watched how Karen's demeanor had changed, "secrets can still be fun." But he wasn't sure if he believed that in this case.

Jack studied the woman sitting in front of him. Why it was Grace who captivated her, he couldn't say. He thought of the manse, the open cash flow, the shiny finer things, and thought if it were him, he'd be set for life. But he knew the heart Karen tried so hard to hide had the redhead's name branded on it; her poker face was transparent. He took a breath, knowing he was about to swim into the deep end of their friendship for the first time. "Okay, don't hate me for saying this. But as soon as you realized I knew, I mean really realized that it wasn't as big of a secret anymore, you seemed...I don't know, lighter. Why wouldn't you want that all the time?"

"Honey, it's not that I don't want it all the time. I do. But obviously, Grace isn't ready to tell Will, and I've had Stan in my life for so long, I wouldn't know where to begin leaving."

"I mean, it can't be that hard, can it? You've said you two barely know where the other is half the time. What's the point? You sign divorce papers, he gives you a nice payday every month, you get to be with Grace, and he gets to do his own thing, whatever the hell that is. It's a win-win."

Jack's oversimplification aside, it wasn't as if the thought hadn't crossed her mind. As she dropped Grace off at her apartment on the way back from Vermont this time, she thought about how positively insane it was to keep this secret when the secret is all she wants. It was the first time she thought about how easy it could be to walk away from Stan. They had become so indifferent towards each other over the years, she couldn't think of any scenario in which he would put up a fight. He would sign what she wanted him to sign, and that would be that. No more feeling like she would never find solid ground. No more fighting to get off the ride she had been trapped on for years. No more heights. No more chill. No more limbo. No more secrets.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized it wasn't such a bad idea. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it wouldn't hurt to just look into how to get the ball rolling on something that used to seem so impossible.

It was crazy how possible it seemed right now.

Karen heard the freight elevator come alive behind her, the tell-tale sign that Grace was on her way back from lunch. Her heart raced and her eyes grew wide as she commanded all of Jack's attention. "You do not say a word of this to anyone. You don't even tell Grace that you know. Got it?"

Jack threw his hands up. "Okay, okay, I swear. Your secret's safe with me. But you know, if you want to talk about it..."

Karen slid her hand on top of his and nodded. "Thanks, honey."

The elevator door opened as Grace stepped into the office. She watched as Jack closed up the bottle of nail polish and stood up to leave. Behind Grace's back, he made a show of zipping up his lip to Karen while the redhead greeted him. "Hey, Jack."

"Hi Grace, bye Grace." Jack said it like it was one word as he slipped into the freight elevator and made his way back out into the city.

Grace let out a short laugh and shook her head. "How was lunch?" she asked as she threw her coat and purse over the coat rack.

"It was...oddly eye-opening," the dark haired woman replied thoughtfully.

"Oh, god...Jack didn't tell you what he did with Tony the other night, did he? I will never be able to unsee that."

"How did I not know you were such a prude?" Karen laughed as she rose from her seat and made her way towards Grace.

"Did I seem like a prude over the weekend?" the redhead smirked as she wrapped her arms around Karen's waist.

"Hardly." The dark haired woman rested her hand over Grace's heart, smiling at the rhythm of it. "You seemed free."

"Yeah," Grace murmured as she tightened her hold on Karen. "Felt pretty good."

Karen was always wary that too much of a good thing would inevitably lead to disaster; so many things in her past had shown her that this was simply a fact of life. But Grace, ever the rebel, waltzed right in and showed her that life wasn't exactly what she made it out to be. She could see Grace on the platform, waiting patiently for her as the ride Jordan pushed her into finally came to a stop. The redhead went back to work while the dark haired woman watched her, trying and failing to hide it behind the pages of her _Vogue_. This, she felt, was her chance. This, she felt, was the time to take a step.

She wanted-she needed-to get off the rollercoaster for good.


	19. Wait Forever, Baby

" _ **Oh, it's a leap of faith  
**_ _ **We're all gunning for a taste of something else  
**_ _ **That we've never felt before  
**_ _ **Oh, it's a leap of faith  
**_ _ **And I admit, I love the chase  
**_ _ **But I won't wait forever  
**_ _ **Baby, I get bored"  
**_ _ **-Mal Blum, "Wait Forever, Baby"**_

 _1985: Age 26_

 _From the diary of Karen Popeil: "If my perception was proven wrong, does it count as a betrayal?"_

"Set it up again, honey." Karen waved her hand over her empty glass, feeling herself loosen up as she watched the bartender filled it with vodka. This place was perfect, a far cry from the stuffy places at which Jordan expected her company. The music was loud enough to pulse through her body and chase away her thoughts. The booze was flowing free enough to make her feel weightless. The dance floor was full enough for her to get lost in the crowd, one nameless face in a sea of nameless faces. Which was exactly what she wanted to be. She didn't want to be Karen Delaney. She didn't deserve to be Karen St. Croix. And she couldn't stomach the thought of being Karen Popeil.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? She wasn't really Karen Popeil anymore. Or she wouldn't be once Jordan finally signs those damn papers.

She had stashed the name and number of Stan's lawyer friend away in her purse before they left the bar, and it lived there for a couple of months, untouched except for the times her hand brushed against it while searching for her keys. But it was in the forefront of her mind the whole time, a way out written in Stan's slanted scrawl. As the days went on, she found herself mustering more and more courage to make the call. Until that courage made her reach for the napkin, slightly crumpled but still harboring possibility. Until it made her pick up the phone one day while Jordan was at work and dial. Until she set up an appointment with this guy. Until he made her realize that there was light at the end of the tunnel, and she really had no other choice.

When she told Jordan she wanted a divorce, he seemed more surprised by the fact that it took her this long to come to that conclusion than the fact that she came to it at all. With all of the buildup she created in her head, the whole thing was a bit anticlimactic. But it didn't diminish the feeling that the world had shifted its weight off of her shoulders. And she couldn't wait to tell Stan that she finally took that leap of faith.

Of course, the day she finally did take that leap of faith was the day that she couldn't seem to get a hold of him. Karen called his office line to no avail, tried him at home in case he took the day off. She decided to slip into the hotel bar, nurse a martini in her usual spot in the hopes that he would walk in and be pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face waiting for him. But she finished the last of her drink alone, and didn't have the patience to stick around for someone who may not come. There would always be tomorrow.

She didn't want to go home, didn't want to even think about the arrangements she would have to make for a new place to live, for a new everything. So she walked the streets of Manhattan with no real motive, wandering around the city as the night settled in. On a whim, she made her way into a club and quickly found herself surrounded by neon lights and a smoke haze that she added to as soon as she walked through the door. Karen made her way through the crowd, bodies pressed against bodies moving to the music, the beat vibrating through every part of her. She found glorious sanctuary in the bar, perched on a seat and taking in her surroundings. She revelled in the fact that, should anyone in her life care, no one would think to look for her here. It felt oddly exhilarating.

Now, she downed her second vodka rocks as one song faded into another. She scanned the crowd and locked on the image of Stanley Walker slowly making his way across the room. And once the shock wore off, she broke out into a grin.

Karen watched as Stan made his way to the bar, feeling her heartbeat quicken as he got closer. Whether it was out of excitement over finally telling him her news, or simply seeing a friendly face when she least expected it, she couldn't be sure. When he finally spotted her at the bar, he couldn't shake the look of surprise on his face. He sidled up to the bar next to her as she called out to the bartender. "Honey! Another round, and whatever he wants," she said as she pointed to Stan. She heard him mumble a drink order before she turned to face him. "Fancy seeing you here," she smirked.

He offered up a small smile. "And exactly how did you end up in a place like this tonight?"

"I don't know. Trying out a new place for my new life?" She saw the look on Stan's face, like he knew what she was about to tell him but still didn't fully believe it. And she took so long to act, she didn't really blame him. "I met with your friend. And I told Jordan it's over." She flashed her bare hand, her wedding band now living in a drawer at home. "So toast me, honey," she said as she clinked her glass with Stan's. "I finally did it."

"I'm proud of you. You're finally looking out for yourself."

Karen noticed the way his eyes kept darting around the place, glancing towards the exit every chance he got. She couldn't help but laugh. "You hate it here, don't you?" she asked.

Stan tried to shrug it off. "This isn't ideal. But Cathy wanted to try something new."

Who the hell is Cathy?

She didn't realize she had said it out loud. Stan furrowed his brow. "My wife. You knew that."

Did she? Karen's mind was frantically scanning the memories she had of Stan in the months that they had known each other, and she couldn't find one mention of a wife in the bunch. Then again, maybe she blocked those parts out; it wouldn't have been the first time she did that for the sake of her sanity. Maybe she didn't want to hear about a marriage that worked, when hers had been beyond repair for so long. Even now, she didn't register the second glass in front of Stan, clearly meant for Cathy, until it was too late. But no, she would have remembered something like a ring on his finger. She would have remembered any mention of this woman; hell, she probably would have made a few quips along the way. He had to be pulling her leg. This was all a joke. There was no Cathy. There was no anyone. But he still looked distracted, more so than he would have for simply wanting to be somewhere else. And that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was becoming too much to ignore.

"Look, I've got to get back to her," he said as he grabbed his drinks, insisting on continuing this charade. "Why don't we get together tomorrow, and we can talk more then?" And without waiting for an answer, he was gone. Karen watched as he handed one of the drinks off to a dark haired woman and led her into the mass of people.

That son of a bitch.

He knew exactly what he was doing over these last few months; he had to. Making the idea of divorce look so damn enticing to her. Feeling more and more comfortable as the days went on, the space between them getting smaller and smaller as they sat at the bar. Letting her say anything, and making her feel safe when she did it. Knowing her better than her husband, better than anyone had in a long time. And she swore to god he could feel it, too. She knew she wasn't the only one inching closer, and even when it was her, he let it happen. But she was married, and even though her marriage was dead, it would be violating something (what that something was, she couldn't be certain) if they ever took it further. And he wanted to take it further; she was sure of it.

Unless she just wanted to read it that way.

When she took a step back to look at the bond she had with Stan, she realized she didn't know much of anything about him. His past, how he got to where he is now, his home life, his married life; it was all one giant mystery. Granted, it wasn't like she was an open book. But she told Stanley things she wouldn't dream of telling anyone else. And now, she was paying the price. Was she so starved for real friendship that she turned it into something else without thinking? Did she really believe that she was going to slip out of Jordan's arms, simply to run into Stan's? Was it even what she wanted?

The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was. It was such a seamless transition, too; she never fully realized it was there until it shattered. And it did shatter into infinite pieces. So she did the only logical thing she could do in a moment like this: she threw herself into the crowd like a woman with zero attachments.

Because now, she was one.

Stan and Cathy had been swallowed up by the crowd by the time Karen left the bar area. The vodka had loosened her up to the point where she could laugh about her luck. She let a few guys spin her around on the dance floor. She spent most of her night with her arms around a woman whose name she never did think to ask for. Karen could taste tequila when she kissed her, and for a fleeting moment, she wanted to take her home, before she remembered that home included a soon-to-be-ex-husband (although, if she thought about it, would he really care?). She felt her touch slide along the small of her back and wondered if it truly felt electric, or if she tricked herself into thinking it did to prove a point. Regardless, she liked the charge, and pressed herself closer to her dance partner. Through it all, she wondered if Stan had his eyes on her. She hoped that he did.

When she hit last call, there was no sign of him or his wife. The nameless woman slipped out of her sight. The vodka that had once made her feel weightless now turned her body to lead. Karen let her final drink slide down her throat, and she wondered how the hell she got so close to Stanley Walker without even realizing it. She wondered if she could ever bounce back from it. She had the strangest feeling that she probably couldn't.

But she wasn't about to wait around to find out.

* * *

 _1998_

"Karen, if you're set on divorce, I can help you with that. But it's going to take an emotional toll."

She was pleasantly surprised that Will agreed to meet her on her day off. And if she was being honest, she wasn't sure she was going to take this leap of faith until the last possible second. She had dropped by his office at a time when she knew Grace wouldn't be visiting, stated her case as quickly as she could. And instead of turning her away, he offered to hear her out over dinner. She called Grace to tell her that she had somewhere to be that night, that she would try to call when she got home. When she arrived at the Astor Cafe, she found Will already at a table waiting for her, a sympathetic and oddly warm look in his eyes when they locked with hers. Karen offered a small smile as she took the seat across from him. She was in no way shocked that he showed up when he said he would; she could tell that once he agreed to something, he would follow through. And she knew that he would keep this between them; she technically wasn't his client, but still, something told her that he wouldn't fill Jack or Grace in on their little dinner date.

The fact that he seemed to be taking her seriously, though, was something she was still getting used to.

Karen met his eyes and saw what she swore looked like compassion, although in the low light of the restaurant, she couldn't be completely sure. "Look, Will...I realize we haven't always gotten along. But Grace trusts you, and I trust Grace. I know this isn't your specialty, but I thought you might be able to talk me through it the best you can and point me in the right direction." She gave him a sad smile. "As for an emotional toll...I don't think that's how I'd put it, honey."

Will studied her for a minute. Between Grace acting like he was keeping some devastating secret by not filling her in on tonight's new client before he left, and Karen's odd sincerity now, his head wasn't quite where it needed to be in this moment. He couldn't figure out what Grace was getting at, but he knew she was getting at something; his mind was working overtime to solve a riddle that seemed impossible. And Karen asking for his help out of the blue...he wasn't completely convinced that she wasn't playing some sort of trick on him for her amusement; he certainly wouldn't put it past her. But in the midst of trying to make sense of everything, he tried to forge ahead. "So why did you wait so long? You know, if you don't mind my asking. It's just that you and Stan have been together for all these years. Why put it off if your marriage feels like a burden?"

She shrugged. "You get used to the burden...until something comes along to make you realize how much of a burden it really is." Karen shifted her gaze to her glass, silently cursing herself as she ran her finger around the rim of her martini. She thought of Jack's insistence that Will was still in the dark, but she also knew he wasn't stupid. Eventually, he would start putting the pieces together, if he hadn't started already. She didn't want to be the one to make him see the picture clearly.

If her response set off the alarm in his head, he didn't let it show. But he did catch her drift. "Sometimes you don't realize how broken it gets until someone shows you." Will saw her freeze, and he knew he hit a nerve. He had been softening towards her all night-she didn't give much away, but he could draw his own disheartening conclusions-and at this point, he honestly felt for her. "Karen, I know I'm quick to judge. There are times when I'm not entirely sure you're human," he smirked.

"I do like to keep some mystery about me," she quipped. Will thought he could see a hint of light in her eyes.

"But I want you to know that I'm here for you if you need it. And whether you're doing this just for you, or for you and the someone who showed you how broken it got, I just want to make sure you know what you'll be up against."

"I appreciate it, Will. But it's not my first rodeo. It's just that I've stayed still for so long, I need to move. I hate that I've gotten so used to this."

"Well, I can put you in touch with a friend of mine. He's one of the best; he'll make sure you get out of this relatively unscathed." Will offered up a smile, shook his head. "You know, sometimes I swear I can see why Grace likes you so much."

Karen laughed to drown the words she wanted to say- _Oh, honey, you have no idea_ -before managing a decidedly less controversial, "Yeah? Well, right back at you, Wilma."

As if on cue, Will's cell phone sprang to life with his best friend on the other end of the line. It was muffled from where she sat, but Karen could make out Grace's voice, frantic with secret affairs and appointments and clients. She knew Will was occupied with trying to ease Grace's mind, but Karen could barely look at him; she knew she was partly to blame for this, and she knew she couldn't tell him why. But it wasn't as though she would have had a chance to say anything anyway; she was frozen in her seat as it all snowballed faster than she could comprehend. Will snapping his gaze to the front of the restaurant, muttering under his breath in disbelief. Grace walking towards them with her phone still in her hand. Will trying to convince Grace to go home while she was pleading for no more secrets. Grace finally realizing who Will was meeting with tonight.

The redhead's stunned gaze on her pierced her through and through. "Karen, what are you doing here?" Grace asked, her voice wavering with uncertainty that she hoped Will didn't notice.

The dark haired woman stared wide-eyed at her, caught red handed trying to take steps in the right direction. It wasn't as though she could explain herself now, not in the way she wanted to explain herself to Grace. And lord knew what was going through the redhead's mind when she saw her best friend seated next to her love. She tried to find her voice, but all she could manage was, "I…"

Will came to her rescue. "Grace, I'd like you to meet my client, K."

Karen could no longer meet the redhead's eyes. She could hear the questions running through Grace's head, even though Grace wouldn't dare let them hit the air with Will around. She glanced over at Will before shifting her gaze to her lap, hearing the hushed argument that unfolded around her-Grace's "How could you do this?" met with "Why does it matter to you?" as though the question was meant for Will, even though she could still feel Grace's eyes on her and heard the sense of betrayal in her voice that had her name all over it-waiting until she heard Grace's footsteps fading away before she moved, trying to slow her frantic heartbeat. She barely registered Will's apologies, hoping the check would come sooner rather than later.

She was restless when she went back to the manse. Stan was already in bed when she came home, so at least she didn't have to face him just yet. It wasn't as if he asks her what she does with her time anymore, but on the off chance he did, she wasn't ready to tell him. She paced around the expanse of their home, her mind spinning with no sign of slowing down. She fixed herself a drink, and then another one, just to occupy her hands. By midnight, she couldn't take it anymore. She threw her coat back on and made her way out into the night, quickening her step as she got closer to Riverside Drive.

She got to apartment 9C and stopped in her tracks. Maybe she should have called first. But if Will was sleeping, the phone surely would have woken him up. Or he would have picked up instead of Grace. Or Grace would have ignored her entirely. But it wasn't as though knocking on the door in the middle of the night was any better; she just couldn't bear to be anywhere else right now. She raised her fist to the door, quietly asking to be let in. She stood there for what felt like an eternity, almost turning to leave when the door opened to reveal Grace, dressed for bed. "You are full of surprises tonight, aren't you?" she asked. She sounded tired more than anything else, and Karen wondered if she could take that as a good sign.

"Can we talk?" the dark haired woman murmured. Grace nodded as she shut the door behind her and padded her way into the bright lights of the hallway.

She had been desperate to be alone with Grace all night, to explain herself, to do some damage control, whatever she needed to do to get past this. But now that she was here, she was at a loss. The fact that her one step forward doubled as a setback was comical. Her luck up until this point was comical. And whether the exhaustion that was catching up with her, or her luck, or the the realization that this grand, sweeping gesture was half baked, her breathless laughter took over. She slid down the wall of the hallway until she was seated on the floor. She watched as Grace joined her, instinctively inched closer to her when they were on the same level. "What's so funny?" the redhead asked.

Karen tried to collect herself. "Grace, you spent the night spiralling because you found out Will had a couple secrets. Meanwhile, you're keeping a pretty major one from him. You don't see the humor in that?"

"Yeah, well...let's not forget that you were keeping one, too."

The dark haired woman sighed. "I probably should have said something about meeting Will tonight. I just wanted to have a solid plan in place before I told you."

"Told me what?"

"That I'm thinking about leaving Stan."

Grace's mouth formed an "O" of surprise. "Now? Are you sure?"

Karen shrugged. "I finally have a reason." She slid her hand over Grace's, felt the warmth of the redhead's fingers as they intertwined with her own. "Grace...this was a long time coming. I'm not saying anything else has to change right now. All I know is the more time I spend with you, the more I realize what I'm doing to myself by staying in this marriage. And regardless of whether or not we can make this last, I need to stop floating through life the way I have been, just because it's safe."

She saw Grace's weary smile and matched it. "I'm proud of you for taking a risk," Grace said softly. "Maybe if I hadn't have gone crazy tonight, you could have told me about it when you were actually ready."

"What was going on, anyway? Are you okay?" the dark haired woman asked.

Grace took a breath. "I guess. I'm sorry I crashed your divorce dinner." Karen couldn't help but laugh at that; it made the redhead's smile a little wider. "This is what I get for hanging out with Jack unsupervised."

Karen felt herself tense up and hoped the redhead couldn't tell. "What did he tell you?"

"He told me about some fling Will had when he was still with Michael. Which turned into me going through Will's day planner, trying to figure out what else he's been keeping from me, because I just couldn't wrap my head around him being anything other than an open book. And it wasn't like Jack was going to stop me. It was not my finest moment." The dark haired woman tried to contain her sigh of relief. She should have known that Jack would keep his promise, but she couldn't help but be thankful for avoiding the conversation that could have come from his loose lips. Grace tightened her hold on Karen's hand. "I think this is me dealing with the guilt of not telling him about us."

Karen took in the scent of Grace's hair as the redhead rested on her shoulder. "Gracie, I think you have to tell him. The longer you wait, the worse it's going to get. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

The redhead sighed. "I know. I just need to find the right time. We don't have the best track record with big life events." She nudged Karen's knee. "Remind me to tell you the story of how he came out to me sometime."

"No one said you had to tell him alone," Karen murmured. "It's not like you're the only one who's in this."

Grace's eyes started to shine. "You'd tell him with me?"

"Of course I would. But we can't keep putting it off."

The redhead stood up and helped the dark haired woman to her feet. "Maybe we can start to map out a plan in the morning," she said. Karen nodded, taking it as her cue to exit. She made her way across the hall and pushed the call button for the elevator.

"Where are you going?" Grace asked. She let Karen stand in her tired confusion for a moment before she continued. "Will went to bed half an hour ago. Stay with me." She reached out her hand for Karen to take before leading her love into the apartment. Karen slipped out of her heels and grasped onto them with her free hand in an effort to walk the hardwood floors in silence. Once they reached the bedroom, Karen's lips collided with Grace's as the redhead slid her dress off of her shoulders.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Grace's bedroom door had already been closed. Karen had already climbed into bed, taking in the warmth of Grace's body pressed against her own, whispering into the redhead's ear before she was taken by sleep-"I love you today"-and hearing it whispered back to her.


	20. From the Dining Table

" _ **We haven't spoke since you went away  
**_ _ **Comfortable silence is so overrated  
**_ _ **Why won't you ever be the first one to break?  
**_ _ **Even my phone misses your call, by the way"  
**_ _ **-Harry Styles, "From the Dining Table"**_

 _1988: Age 29_

 _From the diary of Karen Popeil: "At one point, I thought this would be freeing. See the world. Meet someone. Dive in when it felt right. Skip town when it felt right. They know nothing about me. I can be whoever I want. But that's just it. I don't even know who to be anymore. And everything about this is exhausting. Everything about this reeks of my mother. Which means I finally hit bottom."_

She was foolish to think that divorce would solve all of her problems.

Jordan never put up a fight, like he was just as tired of the whole charade as she was. She wasn't asking for much; in fact, she didn't really want anything from him. Her lawyer made sure she had a decent amount of money to live on. But he kept everything else; it wasn't like anything in that house was hers to begin with. They signed the papers. They went their separate ways. Just like that, it was over. Karen was expecting to feel a rush of relief. But she didn't feel much of anything. This was such a foregone conclusion. And when it finally happened, any energy that could have been used to react was thrusted into the business of putting together a new life for herself.

Karen thought about changing her last name, but she couldn't figure out exactly who she was. She considered going back to St. Croix. But she made such a mess of things over the last few years, that she didn't want to tarnish the name; she didn't want to tarnish Sophie's memory. She considered going back to her maiden name. But she could barely remember a time when she felt like a Delaney; she only had a handful of memories of her father, and her mother had essentially trampled all over them until Karen finally made a run for it. She considered picking a new one entirely. But she remembered that that was what her mother did; she thought of the trail of destruction Lois left behind her wherever she went, and didn't want to do anything that even remotely looked like she was following in her footsteps. So she kept Popeil.

It wasn't what she wanted, but it was what she deserved.

She found a decent apartment and tried to fill it with things that would make it feel like home, but no matter how much she stuffed into the place, it still felt empty. She hadn't lived alone since she first moved to New York. She hated it back then, being trapped in a studio with her thoughts of Sylvia, of the ones she loved and left (or the ones who loved and left her) on her way to Manhattan. When she moved in with Sophie and the boys, she made the mistake of assuming it was forever. But she went from that townhouse in the Village directly to Jordan and the Upper East Side, and she didn't have to relearn how to live alone, at least not in the traditional sense. She thought that being on her own now would be a refreshing change of pace. What it turned out to be was the heavy feeling of loneliness that refused to go away, mixed with her unending thoughts about Stanley Walker and what he might be doing at this moment.

It didn't help that he would call her from time to time.

She didn't even know how he got her number; for all she knew, Jordan passed it along to Stan without realizing what he was doing (and if he did realize that it wasn't his place anymore, he didn't care). But when she picked up the phone the first time, it was so soon after that dreadful night at the club, she didn't want to hear anything he had to say. She knew she had to distance herself as much as possible if she wanted to keep her sanity. But he made it difficult. He seemed to call whenever he and Cathy edged closer to the breaking point, looking for a friend, never fully realizing that he set that bridge on fire, that it was slowly turning to ashes. He tried to confide in her; she wouldn't budge. He would ask her why she never called; she gave him vague answers. He asked her to just be straight with him; she wasn't about to give him what he wanted. She hoped that he would eventually get the hint; the phone eventually stopped ringing.

It had been three years since she found out about Stan's marriage, and she could count the number of times she had spoken to Stanley on one hand. The number of times he crossed her mind, however...well, that was a different story entirely.

Karen thought it would be easier once he stopped calling. But when the silence surrounded her, it made her focus on her thoughts. And her thoughts always seemed to land on better days with him. She thought about the night they first met and how it was the first time she had anything remotely resembling fun at one of Jordan's parties. She thought about night after night and martini after martini in the hotel bar and how they always gave her respite. She thought about the hushed voices that kept secrets and how his low murmur always put her at ease. It all got to be too much. She hated her one track mind. She hated her apartment. She was beginning to hate New York. But luckily, thanks to the hefty check Jordan sent every month, she could leave whenever she wanted.

She took to booking flights whenever she had the itch. And she got the itch quite often. It never mattered where she went-places she had never been with Jordan where she could make her own memories, places she had been with Jordan where she could rewrite history-as long as it was far away from Manhattan. She picked the most expensive hotels and usually found someone she could bring to them. It never meant much of anything; they always knew she wouldn't stick around for long, and she always knew it would give her mind the break she was looking for. There was a stretch of time when she would only book flights to Paris after being completely captivated by a woman named Maxine. She would check into her hotel and meet Maxine somewhere before bringing her back to her room; they would only ever leave to find something to eat. It was fine for a few trips, but like everything else, it eventually fizzled into nothing. She stopped considering Paris getaways after that.

Every time she took a trip, Karen hoped that this would finally get her to stop dwelling on the past. But it always came back to Stan.

She missed him. She couldn't help it.

Karen's flight home from her most recent trip landed-it was Florence this time, and a rendezvous with a darkly handsome man she met in a cafe on her first day there-and she went about her usual routine, picking up a newspaper to look through on the cab ride home. She got in the taxi and started absently flipping through the pages, until she got to the engagement announcements. She froze, unable to believe it. She read it through again, and then once more, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things. But it was there in black and white.

Cathy Walker had gotten engaged. Which meant that Cathy Walker had gotten divorced. And she had pushed Stan far enough away so that she was the last to know.

She couldn't focus on the words on the page anymore. She couldn't sit still. This cab was inching its way towards her apartment in such an agonizingly slow pace, when all she wanted was to get to a phone. Did Stan ever try to call to let her know? Maybe she was off on one of her trips when he needed a friend. Or maybe he got the hint she was suddenly regretting that she dropped. After all, it had been at least a year since the last time she had gotten one of his calls. She wanted to know everything, even though she knew she was privileged to hear nothing. But it wasn't going to stop her from trying.

When she walked into her apartment, she left her suitcases by the door and threw her coat and purse on the couch. She had the newspaper clutched in her hand and made her way to the phone. Karen hovered over it for a moment, unsure if she wanted to take that step. No, that wasn't quite true. She knew she wanted to take that step. She just wasn't sure if she should. It would mean giving in. It would mean being the one who breaks.

It would mean the chance to get her friend back.

She picked it up and took a deep breath as she dialed. Even after three years, she still knew the number by heart. She thought of the very real possibility that it was no longer the connection to Stan it once was-maybe he moved out after Cathy did, maybe Cathy took the place and he's now god knows where-and as she heard it ring, she was bracing herself for an unfamiliar voice coming through to her. But then...

"Hello?" Was it just her imagination, or did he sound weary?

She couldn't speak at first, though she tried. He asked again and again for whoever was on the other end of the line before she could manage it. "Stanley?"

"Karen." The amount of surprise in his voice was overwhelming. "Is everything okay?"

Of course he would think something was wrong. Why else would she call him? "Honestly? That is such a loaded question. But that's not why…" She trailed off. She didn't think it would be this hard. She glanced down at the crumpled newspaper as she tried again. "Honey, I just saw Cathy's engagement announcement in the paper. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

"It was a long time coming. I don't think either of us wanted to admit that we failed at first. But as soon as the ink dried on the divorce papers..."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know."

"Well," Karen said, a hint of a smirk in her voice. She could tell he wanted to get this off of his chest. She could tell he needed someone who would listen, someone who could understand what he was going through, someone who wouldn't judge him. And she took a chance. "Do you want to drink about it?"

His laughter filled her. "Our old place?"

Karen smiled as she thought of the hotel bar, of the hours they used to spend there. She wanted that familiarity. "I can be there in twenty minutes."

She was about to hang up the phone and freshen up when Stan made her stop. "Hey, Karen?"

"Yes?"

"I'm really glad you called."

"So am I, honey." She put the phone back in the cradle. She ran a brush through her hair and reapplied just enough makeup to make it look like she hadn't just gotten home from an exhausting flight. She grabbed her purse. And she was on her way.

* * *

 _1998-1999_

He left just before Thanksgiving, with a note on the dining table as his goodbye. It was such a calculated move when Karen thought about it. Technically, he did let her know he was leaving; but he left the note in such a random place, that she would have to work to find it. That is, if she cared to find it. Karen knew that he would be away on business, taking two months to set something up for Walker Inc. in Berlin. Maybe it was too much to expect of him at this point, but she figured he would have at least woken her up to say a proper goodbye. But at least she was well rested.

There was a time when he would ask her along on these trips, and back then, she would have gladly taken him up on the opportunity to explore whatever city he had to travel. But now, he went his own way, and she knew that she would have no use for the phone numbers he left behind. Now, she was relieved to have never been asked. It was the perfect chance to meet with Will's friend and discuss her options. It was the perfect time to start making her way out. And if she ended up filing papers towards the end of Stan's business trip, so be it. It had been a long time coming; she knew that deep down, he understood that as well as she did. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Stan probably figured it out long before she did. But it wasn't her fault that Grace didn't come along until now.

Grace. Karen had focused so much of her energy on taking those steps towards ending her marriage that she didn't think as much about what would happen after it ended. This wasn't like her divorce from Jordan, when she got reality checked by Stan; she actually knew where she stood with Grace. But they weren't completely in the clear. Will still had no idea that they were together. But the redhead and the dark haired woman were talking about telling him, figuring out the right words, trying to pinpoint the right time. They were getting closer to the answer each day; they just hadn't quite cracked the code yet. And Karen wasn't sure what would happen if she took those steps to free herself before Grace came clean. If she ended her marriage, she would no longer have a reason to keep the secret. If she no longer had a reason to keep the secret, it would put more pressure on Grace to tell Will the truth. If there was more pressure on Grace to tell Will the truth, it would put a strain on their relationship. Karen didn't want that.

But something had to give. And it had to give soon.

In the meantime, they used Stan's absence to their advantage. Even though Grace traveled to Schenectady for Thanksgiving, she spent Christmas with Karen in the manse, and they rang in the new year in the guest bedroom they had quickly claimed as their own. The redhead spent the night with Karen as often as she could without setting off alarms in Will's head; they would walk the hallways, peeking into every room the place had to offer-some Karen couldn't even remember stepping foot in until that point-before retreating back to their own familiar space. They managed to make a quick escape to Vermont, opting for the cabin routine for another weekend of "focusing on work," if Will ever asked. In many ways, it was the happiest they had been, pushing the limits of their secret while inching towards that moment of truth.

All the while, Karen was meeting with the lawyer, working through the process. She told Grace what she was doing, giving her updates whenever she had them. It all still seemed so hypothetical. Then one day, there were divorce papers in her hands, and a husband who would soon be coming home. And she realized that shortly, she would be putting an end to a years-long charade.

She wasn't quite sure what her feelings towards it was, but she knew there was no sadness.

A couple of weeks after their New Year celebration, Karen walked into Grace Adler Designs to find a beaming redhead racing towards her, barely waiting until Karen hung her coat on the rack before wrapping her arms around her. "You are not going to believe the news I have," Grace said as the dark haired woman took her usual seat. She bent over Karen's desk to meet the hazel eyes she adored. "Will left to visit his family in Connecticut. He'll be gone for a week."

Karen's eyes grew wide with possibility. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Seven days, uninterrupted freedom. Just you and me." Grace's smile was uncontrollable. "Anyway, I know your place is insanely huge, but I was thinking that maybe you could stay with me while he's gone. You could come by after work. I'll have something special waiting."

"Gracie, I think that's perfect." And it was. Grace's apartment was warmer, friendlier. She couldn't imagine spending seven days with Grace in someplace as hollow and expansive and cold as the manse. She loved the idea of such an intimate time together spent in such an intimate space. Suddenly, she wished she could go home immediately so she could pack.

Karen was fidgeting with anticipation for the remainder of the work day. She watched Grace with client after client after client, she flipped through the pages of her magazine without really processing the words on them. She stole a kiss in the swatch room thinking it would tide her over, but it only stimulated her senses more. When she finally reached quitting time, she bolted from her chair-much to Grace's amusement-and headed uptown to the manse. It was amazing how quickly she could make her way home when the promise of leaving was alive and well. When she got home, she grabbed the first suitcase she found, and threw some clothes and makeup into it. She went through the drawers in the guest room, where she had been sleeping as of late, just to make sure she didn't forget anything before she ran to Grace.

In the drawer of her nightstand, her fingers brushed against the divorce papers, and her heart stopped.

It had been a couple of weeks since they were drawn up; but since she hadn't talked to Stan since he left, their existence quickly traveled to the back of her mind, to be all but forgotten. She knew that she would have to take care of this soon. Confront Stan, get him to sign. It would be more conversation than they've had in a long time. Frankly, the thought of it exhausted her. But she had an idea; a bit spiteful, perhaps, but it wouldn't leave her mind. She knew Stan would be getting home from Berlin before her week with Grace would be over. So she left the papers on the dining table before she walked out the door. It was a calculated move, leaving them in such a random place, that he would have to work to find them.

That is, if he cared to find them.

She barely had to knock on the door of 9C when she got there; it was almost as if Grace had been waiting there with her ear pressed to the wood, straining to hear the elevator doors open. Karen left her suitcase by the door and brushed her lips against the redhead's before she got a glimpse of Grace's plan for the evening. Candles lit on the dinner table. A couple bottles of wine set out. An intimate meal waiting for them. And a row of takeout containers on the kitchen counter. Karen couldn't help but laugh; she knew her own cooking skills were close to non-existent, and it was oddly satisfying to know that Grace was plagued with the same shortcoming. She watched as Grace's eyes started to shine.

"Don't look at me like that," Grace smirked. "I lost my cook for the week. You work with what you got."

Karen wrapped an arm around the redhead's waist as she studied the dinner table. "But you didn't skimp on the wine, and for that, I love you."

"Well, I didn't want a riot on my hands," Grace said as she nudged the dark haired woman's side.

They sat down to dinner, toasted to their week together, peppered their meal with rambling conversation. When they hit a lull, Karen watched the redhead twirl the noodles on her plate with her fork, and tried to stop her mind from going to that place, the place where she assumes the worst will happen every time. She knew it would spill out into the air; she just tried to play it off as casually as possible. "This could be a disaster, you know," she said as playfully as she could muster.

"How do you figure?" Grace asked.

"I mean, weekends are great, but seven days is a lot of time together. You could find out about some strange quirk I have and kick me out by day three." She met the redhead's eyes and offered up a smile.

"Or I could find out about some strange quirk you have, and it could turn me on." The fire that had sparked in Grace's eyes had melted Karen in a second. "It doesn't always have to be worst case scenario, Karen. You know how we always say we wish we could stay in the cabin for just a little bit longer? We finally get to have that." She put down her fork and slid her hand over Karen's. "So let's make the best of it."

The way the redhead could soothe her was incredible. She couldn't remember the last time someone did that for her (she knew that Sophie did that for her, but fifteen years is a lot of time for memories to start fading at the edges). She knew she was working on breaking out from the darkness into the light. But it helped to know that Grace was patiently standing by her side. It made the risk worth it. It made everything worth it.

The rest of their evening would likely have felt normal to anyone else, but to Karen, it felt like a miracle. They left the dishes soaking in the sink and brought the rest of the wine into the TV room, forgoing the glasses. Karen draped a blanket over them and curled herself into Grace as the redhead turned the TV on. They passed the bottle back and forth as they paid minimal attention to the movie they landed on. Eventually, Grace looked down to find Karen had fallen asleep against her, her hands wrapped around the neck of the empty bottle. In the glow of the television, she looked so stunningly peaceful. She hated to wake the dark haired woman up, but eventually got her to open her eyes and relinquish the bottle. She turned the TV off, tossed the blanket over the sofa, resolved to get to the dishes tomorrow. When they turned in for the night, they didn't have to tiptoe around Will's door, and they didn't have to close Grace's. They fell asleep to the sounds of Riverside Drive below them.

It was going to be a good week.


	21. Killian's Red

" _ **I'm putting this night down to bed  
**_ ' _ **Cause I've been sitting at the bar  
**_ _ **Hoping you'd walk in the door that says 'Killian's Red'  
**_ ' _ **Cause I left you a note that said  
**_ ' _ **Come on out and we'll both get right off of our heads  
**_ _ **And float up off the chair'  
**_ _ **We'll go on vacation tonight  
**_ _ **Under sun of neon light  
**_ _ **And I almost love this town when I'm by your side."  
**_ _ **-Nada Surf, "Killian's Red"**_

 _1990: Age 31_

 _From the diary of Karen Popeil: "There are times when I can keep it inside, when I can simply swallow it down with the next drink. But there are other times when everything comes together. The light makes his eyes shine in the right way. His voice is the right kind of low. His laugh hits the right note. He lights my cigarette before I have a chance to. And all I want to do is give in."_

They were building a relationship of patience this time around. Taking it slow, dipping their toes into the water before submerging themselves in their old patterns. It had been three years of distance; she didn't feel like she changed that much (although it was debatable), but she had no way of fully knowing what the divorce put him through. And for the most part, this newfound patience suited them well. It allowed them to to fill the cracks in their foundation. It was a start, and she was willing to take it.

But Karen swore to god, if Stanley didn't show his face in this bar sometime soon, she was going to explode.

She was fine with the patience at first; all she wanted was her friend back, and if that meant taking it slow, she would do it as long as he was still sitting next to her in the hotel bar. She could still remember the way they were when they first reconnected. He walked into the bar looking as nervous as she felt. They kept tripping over trivial sentences, tiptoeing their way through the important ones. It took time to find their groove again. And even when they did, even when they were finally becoming who they once were, they were still wary. They held their friendship in their hands like it would turn to dust at any moment. And it didn't help that all the old feelings Karen had for him came back. That is, if they ever left in the first place.

There was a line she was trying so hard not to cross. She knew how she felt about her own marriage ending; that conclusion was so obvious that she didn't think much of it. It was hard to be on the rebound when there wasn't anything to rebound from. But she could never quite get a handle on how Stan felt about his marriage to Cathy. For all she knew, even though he kept insisting it was a long time coming, he still could have been grieving a split from the love of his life. She had no idea what that relationship was like, because, frankly, she didn't want to know. It was bad enough to deal with her own feelings without having to face the realities of that union. Although, once she and Stan reconnected, it would have been nice to have a hint. She talked around the subject, not wanting to push him over an edge he may or may not be standing on. Let him talk when he's ready to talk. But then their friendship stopped being so shaky. Then one month became two, the days piling on top of one another until a year had gone by. Until two years had gone by. Never making a move when it counted. Never giving it a try. Suffering in silence as opportunity passed her by.

Somehow, all of her stories led to the same conclusion.

It wasn't like she didn't want to move. Of course she wanted to move. It's just that she never figured out how to do that when there was something to lose. She only had something to gain by picking up the phone and reconnecting with Stanley. Giving into that swimming feeling she got whenever they met at the bar was something else entirely. Karen kept using the divorce as an excuse. It's too soon, he's still processing, she'll ruin everything if she told the truth. All of the reasons why not were taking up all the space in her head so that, when it came down to it, she was the good, patient listener that every friend should be. But at some point, she realized how light he was, how happy he was, and she was almost certain it wasn't an act to save face. There was a window, and it had opened. So of course, she stayed as far away from it as she possibly could.

But that didn't mean there weren't times when her curiosity won out. It didn't mean there weren't times when she got a little restless. It didn't mean there weren't times when she almost slipped, when she wished she didn't catch herself slipping.

In the beginning, it would only happen when Karen first saw him. She would walk into the bar and see him sitting there, and she would be overwhelmed with the idea of kissing him hello, her lips lingering against his for just a moment, just to know what that would feel like. She had started to go for it once or twice before realizing what she was doing. Karen would recover pretty quickly, act like nothing of the sort was working its way through her mind. And she would try to keep her distance. But Stan made it hard. It seemed as though he was the only one who could see through her poker face and push all the right buttons at all the worst times. He pulled all the old tricks he did the first time around, letting that feeling of safety wrap around them, moving closer and closer and closer. And just like the first time around, they were stuck in the almost of it all; almost slipping, almost kissing, almost giving in. She couldn't tell if it was stubbornness or stupidity, but either way, it was ridiculously frustrating.

There was nothing holding them back this time. So why were they standing so damn still?

Today, Karen woke up and decided she couldn't take it anymore. She thought of how she was supposed to meet Stan for lunch, and knew if she didn't say anything now, she would drive herself crazy staying in this frozen state. She would find her opening, lay it all out on the table. They would finally have to make a decision. But when she saw him at the restaurant and they sat down to their meal, they quickly slipped into their usual patterns. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised-Stan wasn't the only one running around in circles-but she couldn't help getting more and more agitated as their lunch went on. Before she knew it, the bill had been paid, the dregs of their drinks were swirling around in their glasses, and the conversation had turned infuriatingly superficial. Karen wasn't paying attention to what Stan was saying at this point; she absently watched him talk, feeling everything pile up inside of her, until it finally reached her lips, and there was no holding back.

"Good lord," she blurted out. "Stanley, what the hell are we doing?"

"What are you talking about?" Unbelievable. She couldn't tell if he was playing with her or he genuinely didn't know. And she couldn't tell which was worse.

Karen scoffed. "Honey, if you really don't know, then I guess I have my answer. But I refuse to go down this road again. I refuse to get close to you and wreck myself in the process." She locked eyes with Stan, silently daring him to say something. When he stayed quiet, she continued. "Do you understand how hard it was for me to find out you were married, after all that time we had spent together? And now here we are, doing the same thing all over again. And there's no more Cathy, and there's no more Jordan, but we're just as stuck as we were five years ago. I can't keep doing this. We have to make a move; this is mine." She stood up, put on her coat and grabbed her purse. "If you feel even the slightest bit of what I feel, meet me at the bar tonight. Otherwise, I think this is the end of the road." And with that, she left the restaurant without waiting to hear if he had anything to say on the matter.

She had gotten to the bar when she usually did, slid into the seat she usually sat in. She ordered the martini she usually drank. She brushed off a smirk-laden comment from the bartender about being alone tonight. _Problem with the boyfriend?_ She wanted to laugh; she had to have one to have a problem with one. She took her drink in silence and nursed it before ordering another one, and then another. She would look to the entrance every now and then, hoping that she would see him walking through, but none of the faces she saw coming her way was the familiar one she longed for.

Karen was beginning to second guess her actions. Maybe she was a little harsh. Maybe she could have eased into it a bit better. Maybe she could have waited for a better time. Maybe he decided he's staying in for the night. Maybe she just effectively ended a friendship she relied on so much. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Karen sighed and downed the rest of her drink. If he hadn't shown up yet, he wasn't going to. She was getting restless waiting for him; all she wanted to do now was go home, sleep it off, and add this latest disappointment to the ever-growing collection. She always wondered why she was afraid to push; now, she understood. She tried to signal the bartender for her check when she heard a voice.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

When she turned around, Stan was pulling out the bar stool next to her. Karen watched him take his seat as she tried to collect her words. "I...I was starting to lose hope," she said softly, wanting to put on a strong front and knowing she had failed.

"That's my fault. It shouldn't have taken me this long." Unbelievable. She couldn't tell if he meant coming here tonight, or making a move at all. And she couldn't tell which was making her heart speed up like that. But before she could figure it out, Stan leaned in and pressed his lips to hers; everything she had hoped to feel in this moment lived in that kiss. When they pulled away, Karen finally noticed the bartender standing there, waiting for her request. She cleared her throat, pulled herself together.

"Another round," she said. And as Stan put in his drink order, she grinned to herself, thinking of how wonderful it was to finally break away from the circles they had been running in, and how maybe that collection of disappointments had finally been capped.

* * *

 _1999_

She could tell that Grace was planning something, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what that something was.

Karen caught the redhead looking over at her throughout their work day with a strange glow in her eyes, trying to slow the smirk playing across her face. There were times when their eyes would meet and Karen would call her out, ask her what was going on inside her mind every time she gazed in the dark haired woman's direction. Grace would shrug and play confused. "I don't know what you're talking about." But there always was that mischievous smile that seemed to give her away. And Karen could have let it all slide, if it weren't for the redhead's little suggestion just after lunch. Grace looked up from her sketchpad to break the silence that enveloped them, and saw Karen startle in her seat at the sound of her voice.

"You know," Grace said, "it's a slow day today. If you wanted to get out of the office for a little bit, kill some time before we go home, I'd be fine with that. It's better than sitting around here with nothing to do."

The dark haired woman narrowed her gaze and fought the urge to ask what Grace was getting at. She could almost hear the gears turning inside the redhead's mind. But she wasn't about to pass up a chance to get some shopping in on company time. Karen slowly stood up, took one step and then another towards the coat rack. "You're sure?" she asked, her words coated in incredulity.

But Grace didn't back down. "Go for it," she nodded. "I'll be here when you get back." Just like that, she went back to her sketch. And just like that, Karen headed for the door.

She wasn't planning on spending a lot of time roaming the streets of Manhattan; even though she wasn't occupied with anything important back at Grace Adler Designs, it was an overwhelmingly comfortable feeling that came along with watching the redhead work from across the room. But peeking into one store turned into peeking into another, one shopping bag turned into three, and before she knew it, the sun was setting and closing time was fast approaching. Karen raced back to the office and hoped that Grace wouldn't spend too much time waiting up for her.

When she got to the office and put her bags down on the floor next to her desk, the redhead was nowhere to be found. Karen called out for her, thinking Grace was rummaging in the swatch room. She was waiting in vain for an answer when she saw the note on her desk, complete with an address in the Village and a simple request.

 _Come find me. I'll be waiting._

Well. She couldn't say no to that.

Karen started making her way to her destination and couldn't shake off the feeling that her path was incredibly familiar. Maybe she used to walk the same streets with Sophie way back when (she was positive they had at some point), but she didn't think that was the reason for the butterflies in her stomach. They didn't feel like the butterflies she normally attributed to Sophie's memory, but they felt just as significant. She tried to put it together the closer she got to meeting Grace, until she finally saw the place the redhead was supposed to be at. The neon shouting from the window into the street. The din from the crowd and the music inside spilling out into the sidewalk. The smell of cheap beer getting stronger and stronger as you got closer to the door. It was the exact same dive she wandered into all those months ago, as an attempt to get as far away from Stan and her Park Avenue life as she possibly could.

It was the exact same dive where she first met Grace Adler and changed the course of her life.

Karen walked in and worked her way through the lively crowd, shocked when she found that Grace had found two seats at the bar when the place was this full. The redhead broke out into an uncontrollable grin when their eyes met; the dark haired woman broke out into an uncontrollable grin when she saw that Grace had whiskey on the rocks and a pint of beer waiting for her arrival. "Are you sure you should be here?" Grace asked, harking back to their first exchange.

The dark haired woman was still laughing when she pressed her lips to Grace's. "You know, you could have just told me you wanted to come here tonight," she said as she took her seat.

"But where's the fun in that?" Grace sipped her beer, thrilling at the touch of Karen's hand on her knee as the dark haired woman lifted her drink. "I've just been thinking about the night we met, how that night should have gone. I think we're due to make it right."

Karen furrowed her brow. "I thought that night went pretty well, considering why I came here in the first place. How exactly do you think it should have gone?"

"Well, for one thing, I would have gotten your number. I wouldn't have left seeing you again up to chance." The redhead tucked a lock of Karen's hair behind her ear, let her hand rest against the dark haired woman's cheek for a moment. "I would have been a little bit bolder."

"You were pretty bold already," Karen murmured, remembering the way Grace had been around her that night, how she couldn't tell if Grace was being refreshingly blunt because that was her nature or because the beer had influenced her.

"I would have given in to the way you were making me feel. I wouldn't have thought so much about Danny. We would have gotten close. And then at some point, if this were a perfect world, we would have gone home together."

Karen waited until their eyes locked, until she was sure she had Grace's full attention. "I would have gone home with you that night," she said.

Grace's eyes widened in surprise. "You would have?"

The dark haired woman nodded. "The way you made me feel then...I hadn't felt that in a long time. I wanted to be with you. I just didn't think it was possible." She let the rest of her whiskey slide down her throat and ordered another round for both of them. She laughed to herself as she slid her fresh drink towards her. "I keep going over that night, trying to figure out why I came here, of all places, to get away from Stan. I used to think it was just my way of reconnecting with my past. But I don't know, Gracie. You make it seem more and more like it was fate."

"No, fate is you walking into my office looking for a job. God, if you hadn't have done that, I think I would have driven myself crazy trying to find you. Not that I had anything to go on." She considered it for a moment. "Not that it would have stopped me."

Karen couldn't help but smirk. "Can I tell you something? The only reason I answered that ad was because I was hoping it was you." Grace's laugh made her feel like she was floating. "I'm serious! There's got to be a million Graces in the world, but the one looking for an assistant in the classifieds was obviously my Grace." She shook her head. "I almost lost my nerve, too, thinking about the possibility of it being some stranger. Trying to explain myself. I mean, why the hell would I need to work?"

"To find something better for yourself." Grace moved her seat closer to Karen, her arm brushing against the dark haired woman's arm, that gardenia perfume she had quickly become addicted to going to her head.

"Your boldness is showing again," Karen said, running her finger up and down Grace's thigh. "You're lucky you're right."

"You know, for all the times you told me you found something better, I don't think I tell you enough that you've shown me how brilliant life can be. If I hadn't have met you…"

"You would have gone down the same road with Danny that I did with Stan and Jordan." Karen shrugged and smiled. "Except you wouldn't have met a bold, quirky stranger in a bar, ready to change your world."

Grace bit her lip. The way the neon light of the beer signs bounced off her curls as she shook her head was stunning, and the dark haired woman found herself wanting to hold onto this vision for as long as she possibly could. "I don't believe that. You're too important to be a coincidence. It would have happened eventually."

She said it so matter-of-factly that it stole Karen's words from her for a moment. She was never sure about anything the way that Grace was sure about the inevitability of their relationship; life had taught her to second guess her hunches and bend her convictions almost to the point of breaking. But now, after thirty-nine years, three marriages, and a myriad of disappointments in between, she was finally starting to see that she didn't have to bend, and she didn't have to second guess. This was how it was always supposed to be. "Well," she finally managed. "I'm glad we didn't have to wait for eventually."

The sincerity in Grace's voice was incredible. "Waiting for eventually would have destroyed me."

The whiskey flowing through Karen made Grace's touch even more electric on her skin. The redhead ran her fingers along Karen's jawline and sent waves throughout the dark haired woman's body. She drew her into a kiss and let her hands slide around Karen's waist, her touch walking up and down her spine. Karen smiled against Grace's lips for a moment. For such a secretive relationship, they were certainly out in the open now. She knew that the chance of anyone caring about their closeness was slim. But she couldn't help but imagine all eyes on them. And she had to admit, it was incredibly liberating. But before she could think about that for too long, she felt Grace's touch travel to her thigh, sliding ever so slowly underneath her skirt. She thrilled at the touch, sighed over Grace's lips grazing the crook of her neck. It was more than Karen could take in such a public place.

She leaned in close enough for Grace to feel the dark haired woman's breath on her ear, the warmth of it making Grace melt into her. "I think you should take me home with you," she whispered before planting a kiss. When she pulled away, Grace could see her eyes spark into fire.

Grace signaled for the check and threw some cash down on the bar, completely oblivious to Karen's insistence that she be the one who paid. She took Karen by the hand and led her through the crowd, back into the night. As they hailed a cab, Karen found that when she moved in closer to her, it felt like New York was the only place in the world. They climbed into the taxi and felt the warmth envelop them. And as they made their way towards Riverside Drive, Grace's lips never left Karen's.


	22. Cruel and Clumsy

" _ **You wanted something you saw in the sunset  
**_ _ **So don't you leave here 'til you know what it is  
**_ _ **And let's turn to the west  
**_ _ **And let's turn up the music  
**_ _ **And let's hope it's always as good as this"  
**_ _ **-Chris Pureka, "Cruel and Clumsy"**_

 _1995: Age 36_

 _From the diary of Karen Walker: "This wasn't where I expected to end up. But I wouldn't mind staying here. It feels like I've finally leveled out, and I'm not complaining. I could use some steady ground."_

Life could be cruel and clumsy, which was why Karen took solace in the fact that her relationship with Stan was slow and steady. After years of rollercoasters and spirals, of ground that seemed solid at first but gave when she put weight on it, she was relieved to find that the road she was on with Stanley seemed to be a smooth one. Their life together was one full of realizations. One day, they realized that they could finally be together, so they finally got together. For all that it took to get to that point, it was worth it the second she slipped her hand into his. One day, they realized how crazy it was to live apart when they spent all their time together, so Karen moved into the manse. She reveled in how quickly it felt like home. One day, they realized he never proposed, so he got down on one knee. They were on the sands of Belize, and the the sunset hit the water at just the right moment, as though it was in cahoots with Stanley to create the perfect memory.

One day, they realized that they had been engaged long enough, so they got married.

The ceremony wasn't much: an understated white dress, an intimate venue, a handful of guests. They had both done this before; they didn't need anything extravagant. And Karen was relieved that there wasn't a lot of fuss. Her first marriage wasn't official, but it was the one that mattered; she planned everything with Sophie, and it was everything she could have possibly wanted. Her second marriage counted in the eyes of the law, but it couldn't have mattered less; everything Jordan had planned was over the top, and she didn't have the energy to put a stop to it. By the time she started making plans with Stanley, they were both disillusioned enough from their past experiences to not put so much importance on the small details. All they cared about was the act of becoming husband and wife; everything else was merely decoration. It made it all so easy. And Karen was in desperate need of something that was easy.

She walked down the aisle, they said their vows. He whisked her away to the Caribbean on a two-week honeymoon. She had never really been one for beach vacations before she met Stanley; the hum of city life had always calmed her more than the crashing waves of the ocean could. But Stan took her by the hand and showed her what she was missing. He made every destination theirs, tying brilliantly beautiful memories to each one. This honeymoon was one of peacefully basking in their new chapter. Each night, they watched the sunset on the beach. She felt the sand in between her toes and his fingers entwined with hers and was convinced that she would be able to feel this peace once they left the island. And even though they struggled with leaving their paradise behind once their two weeks were up, they were certain that this feeling would last them a lifetime.

It wasn't until they were up in the air, halfway home, that Karen started to panic.

All this time resting in this comfortable relationship, in Stan's safe arms, she focused on all the ways that this was different than the last, that Stanley Walker was different than Jordan Popeil. But they were two inhabitants of the same world; it was how Karen met Stan in the first place. Who's to say he won't distance himself from her once they've landed and the novelty of their honeymoon has worn off? Who's to say they won't fall into the patterns she languished in for so long before she met him, the ones she hoped Sylvia could break, the ones that kept pulling her back in? For all she knew, this was all some elaborate front that even he didn't realize he was putting on. Because that was the thing, wasn't it? You never plan on pushing someone away, but eventually you realize that when you reach out, you can't quite touch them anymore. She was never too concerned about it with Jordan; she just expected it, and he delivered. But now, Stanley stood where Jordan once did. And now, Karen cared.

When they finally made it home to the manse, they left their luggage by the front door, knowing that it would be taken care of eventually. Stan made his way to the kitchen while Karen tried to rid herself of this fresh and strong worry by absently wandering the expanse of their home. Going their separate ways as soon as they walked through the door...it was exactly how her first night home with Jordan started. He had retreated to his study, leaving her to her own devices. When Karen thought about it, she realized that she didn't see Jordan again until she woke up the next morning, her new husband having crawled into bed when she was fast asleep. Now, she stifled a laugh of disbelief. No matter how hard she tried to break the cycle, it always seemed to fuse itself back together. Except this time, the cycle would play out in a much bigger arena. The manse seemed endless to her now. It would be so easy to get lost here. It would be so easy to slip away for a moment alone and wind up with hours of unexpected and unwanted solitude. It would be so easy to cordon off a piece of this place for yourself and keep to your own corner.

It would be so easy to lose a marriage here.

Karen ended up in the library, started running her fingers along the spines of the books Stanley had collected over the years. She studied the titles and tried to take comfort in the fact if this marriage turned out to be like her last, she could at least keep herself occupied in this room. She thought back to the collection of paperbacks she amassed during her early days in New York, always craving a few more pages, always feeling a little less alone when she got them. They were weathered, they were broken. They would have no place on these shelves filled with Stanley's leather-bound tomes. She still had a few of them, packed away in boxes she hadn't opened since she left that townhouse in the Village. She wondered how long it would be before she had to peel the tape off of them and dig through them, looking for comfort and companionship. She wondered...

"There you are." Stan's voice startled Karen for a moment before she turned to see his smiling face. He offered up the martini in his hand. "Thought you might want one."

She put on a smile and wondered how genuine it looked. "Thank you," she murmured as she took the glass from him and drew it to her lips.

He studied her for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever it is that's weighing down your mind."

There was no use in playing it off, but at this point in her life, it was a reflex. Though, it was amazing how quickly he seemed to pick up on things. It should have lent itself to hope for a better journey, but she wasn't entirely convinced. "It's nothing. Just adjusting to being back home, I guess."

Stanley nodded. "Of course." When the silence fell, she turned her back to him, fully expecting him to retreat to his office, to their bedroom, anywhere to escape the heavy quiet that surrounded them. Instead, she felt him coming closer, resting his hand on her shoulder. Instead, she heard him speak softly to quell her mind. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "And you're wrong. It's going to be different. I promise."

She turned to face him. "You can't promise me that," she whispered.

Well. She had him there. But he wasn't done trying. "Maybe not," he conceded. "But, Karen...it took us a decade to get to this point. Do you really think I would still be here if I didn't want to be?"

Ten years. In that time, she could have put an effort into moving on. She could have found someone who distracted her in just the right way. She could have thrown herself into another marriage and moved into a different home in a different place. She could have left New York behind entirely. She could have gotten used to it all. Instead, she waited. At the start, she waited without fully realizing what it was she was waiting for, hoping it was something resembling peace, relieved when it arrived in the form of Stanley's kiss. Once she had peace, she waited for Stan's regret, breathing a little easier every day it didn't come. Now, standing here with Stan's arm around her waist and his ring on her finger, she was waiting to see what this new life had in store. And unlike Jordan, when she looked at Stanley Walker in this light, the good feelings seemed to break through the doubt.

This time, when Karen smiled, it was wholly genuine. She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. "I love you, Stanley," she murmured.

"I love you, too." He tightened his hold as she rested her head on his chest.

Ten years. After all of this time, was it truly worth it?

In this moment, she believed that it was.

* * *

 _1999_

Riverside Drive was surprisingly still tonight. The occasional rumble of taxis driving north barely made a sound against the chill in the air. The passersby on the street obeyed the hush over the city. Life could be cruel and clumsy, but nights like these made you see how peaceful it could be, how good it could be. And as Karen looked down on Manhattan from Grace's ninth-floor terrace, she couldn't help but feel such immense love for this night, for this city, for her girl.

Karen sparked her lighter and held the flame to her cigarette. She took a drag, smiling as she exhaled, the quiet of the Upper West Side letting her revel in the bliss tonight had gifted her. They had gotten home from the bar and stumbled into Grace's bedroom, the seemingly endless ride uptown pushing the urgency in the redhead's touch, the way she pulled at the fabric of Karen's clothing, the way she held the dark haired woman's face in her hands as her kiss crashed into Karen's lips, the way she rode the curves she had come to know so well. If Karen closed her eyes now, she swore she could still feel Grace's touch on her skin. She held the weight of her love in her arms afterwards, the warmth of Grace's body radiating against her in the most soothing way. It took all she had to untangle herself from the embrace and throw on her nightgown and coat to get her nicotine fix. She leaned against the rail of the terrace and took another drag. Sometimes, way the world had of letting things fall into place was incredible.

She was too happy to even think of worrying about whether or not the other shoe would drop. It was a feeling she could really get used to.

"There you are." Karen turned at the sound of Grace's voice to find the redhead wrapped in the comforter off her bed, closing the terrace door behind her. "Karen, it's January. It's freezing. I told you that you could open my window if you wanted to smoke."

The dark haired woman shrugged as Grace moved closer, marveling at how amazing it still felt when she rested her head on her shoulder. "It's not so bad. The air feels pretty good." She felt Grace's arms wrap around her waist as they gazed towards the Hudson River and placed her hands over the redhead's to make sure her touch wouldn't disappear. They stood there in silence for a moment, until Grace spoke softly.

"I've been thinking. I haven't been able to stop thinking. And I think I made a decision."

Devil. Karen tried her hardest not to tense up. It was the kind of thing that was always loaded. It was the kind of thing you said just before the end. It was the kind of thing that pulled the rug out from under you and pushed you back into the dark. Just when she was getting used to that absence of worry, too. Grace's timing was impeccable.

"When Will comes home in a couple of days," she continued, "I'm going to tell him about us."

The butterflies Karen had felt on her way to the bar had come back with a vengeance. This was it. This was everything she wanted. It still felt too good to be true, but god, she wanted to grab it and never let go. "Gracie, if you're not ready…" she started, in no way surprised that she hadn't broken through her habit of offering Grace a way out. She had gotten so used to the relationship she had with the sadness that followed her through her life, she couldn't believe how hard it was to give it up.

Grace shook her head. "I'm ready. It's just time. Actually, it's way overdue." Karen let her cigarette drop to her feet as the redhead sighed. "You were right. The longer I wait, the worse it'll be. It's just difficult to tell him something like this, you know? His standards are insanely high sometimes. I mean, the look on his face when I told him about Danny...he really hated Danny."

" _I_ really hated Danny."

Grace laughed as she looked into the dark haired woman's eyes. "Something tells me your reasons were slightly different than Will's." Karen's smile was contagious. "Okay, so Danny didn't really meet anyone's standards. But if I tell Will that I'm in love with you, and he has the same reaction...I don't think I could take that."

"Well, I would hope that I'm at least a step above your ex-boyfriend. And even if I'm not, it's not the end of the world. I've been through a hell of a lot worse than Will's little judgy glances. But you know what? I think he's starting to like me, in spite of himself." She looked at the redhead and felt the gravity of it all. It was not lost on her that after all of these months of Grace being the one full of reassurance, they had now switched places. She was new at this; she didn't want to screw this up. "Gracie...Will's a good guy. All he wants is for you to be happy. Once he sees that you are, he'll come around. It'll be okay."

"You think so?"

"I do. Look, he doesn't come back for another what? Three days? That's plenty of time to get a plan together. And I'll be right here the whole time."

Grace couldn't help but smirk as she tightened her hold on Karen. "When the hell did you get to be so sure of things?" she quipped.

"I'm trying this new thing where I don't think the sky is falling every other minute. You think it's working?" the dark haired woman grinned.

"It's a good color on you," the redhead murmured, brushing her lips against Karen's.

Karen sighed against the kiss. "I guess I'll have to wear it more often," she said as they pulled away. "Maybe we should go back inside. After all, it's January. It's freezing." She took Grace's hand and led her back into the warmth of apartment 9C, shrugging off her coat as soon as they got inside.

Grace made her way to the stereo and turned the volume up on the calm music she settled on, something of Will's she didn't realize he had but seemed to fit the night perfectly. She shifted her gaze to the kitchen, where Karen was taking a corkscrew to a bottle of Cabernet, swaying ever so slightly to the rhythm. If she listened close enough, she swore she could hear the dark haired woman humming along as she poured a couple of glasses. How could anyone see this and think it's wrong? If she just told Will about these deceptively simple moments, about the talks by the fireplace and the intimate dinners and the way Karen feels like home, she knew he would understand. He had to.

If she just told Will that Karen was different than the ones who came before her, they would be golden.

"Nightcap?" Karen asked as she moved towards the redhead with a glass in both hands. She smiled as Grace's hand peeked out from the comforter that was still wrapped around her. Grace watched as Karen drifted towards the bedroom, sipping her wine along the way, stopping to glance back at her girl with the most sincerely playful look on her face. She knew that this was another one of those moments that felt like home.

In the moonlight that spilled in through the windows, Karen glowed. Grace stood in the doorway for a moment before she tossed the comforter onto the bed, impressed but in no way surprised that the dark haired woman could slide out of her nightgown without once letting go of her glass. She inched closer and closer, and felt Karen wrap her free hand around the small of her back, slipping under the threadbare t-shirt Grace had thrown on to venture to the terrace, drawing the redhead towards her. Grace set her glass down on the nightstand to lift her shirt over her head. She laughed as Karen downed the rest of her wine in one go before she took the glass from the dark haired woman's grasp to set it down next to her own. She was barely able to let it go before Karen landed on the bed, pulling Grace down with her.

The urgency Karen felt in Grace's touch only a couple of hours before was replaced with the overpowering sense that they had all the time in the world. The redhead took her time, studying the look in Karen's eyes, the blush in Karen's cheeks from the cold, the way Karen's lips curled into a smile as she hovered over her. Grace closed her eyes for a moment to take in the feeling of Karen brushing her hair back before pulling her into a kiss that melted away any lingering nerves towards Will's return. When they broke it, she saw the cautiously hopeful look in Karen's eyes, felt it tug at her heart. She brushed her lips against the dark haired woman's forehead. "What's going on in there?" she murmured against Karen's skin.

Karen smiled and shook her head, let her hands slide around Grace's waist. "Nothing," she whispered, "I just...it should always be like this." This moment, this night, this week. This love. All her life, it should have always been like this.

But as deeply as Karen was looking into the past, Grace was looking towards the future. "It will be soon," she said.

And in that moment, Karen wholeheartedly believed her.

Grace would have been content staying just like this; it was when Karen plunged her lips hungrily into her skin that the redhead couldn't help but move. She let her kiss trail down Karen's neck, her tongue travel the curve of her breasts, her fingers slide down the length of her torso. She heard the dark haired woman's soft moans start to grow in intensity, that subtle and breathless "Please" escaping Karen's lips in impatient anticipation. But Grace was calculating; she was precise. She had come to know her love's body so well over time; she had come to know where to go, how to surprise her, how to make her soar into the night.

She had come to know that patience drove her mad.

Grace slyly left a trail of kisses from her breasts to her navel, lingering in some places, quickening her pace in others. She stopped just shy of where the dark haired woman was guiding her, her tongue teasing Karen fitfully. Karen let out a breathless, drawn-out "Grace," urging her to hurry. Grace fought the desire to look up at her love once she got there, to see the thrill that consumed Karen when she felt her arch her back. As Karen started to clutch the sheets, Grace grabbed onto her hands, gently lacing their fingers together. Because if the dark haired woman felt the weightlessness she always made Grace feel, the redhead wanted to float right along with her.

Later on into the night, as they slowly approached the early morning hours, Karen nestled into the redhead's body, her eyes growing heavy as she rested against Grace's heartbeat. She felt Grace stroke her hair, the motions growing slower and slower as Grace stopped fighting the inevitable slumber. They settled into sleep, letting the music play until the end. The light from the living room peeked in on them, but could not disturb them.

They were completely unaware that somewhere in Connecticut, a man had reached his boiling point with his family. They were unaware that he decided to cut his trip short. They were unaware that he was planning to journey back to his home and his best friend on Riverside Drive first thing in the morning.

They were unaware of just how cruel and clumsy life was about to get.


	23. Whether You Fall

" _ **And you hate the silence as it fills up the room  
**_ _ **And there's not much to say to your blushing groom  
**_ _ **Maybe all eyes are on you as you finish the race  
**_ _ **And the world sees you struggling for last place  
**_ _ **Whether you fall  
**_ _ **Means nothing at all  
**_ _ **It's whether you get up"  
**_ _ **-Tracy Bonham, "Whether You Fall"**_

 _1997: Age 38_

 _From the diary of Karen Walker: "You waste so much time thinking that you're fine. And then one day, you look around, and you wonder how you got to this place. You wonder why you never saw the signs. You wonder if you could have prepared yourself for this. And you realize that you're so far away from the starting line, you can't even begin to trace your steps back to see if you can pinpoint the moment it all turned."_

In the silence, she could hear her nails click against her martini glass; she could hear how the pitch of it changed as she emptied her drink. She could study Stanley's demeanor and marvel at how solid his poker face was. She could wander into any room of the manse and ensure her solitude. She could count the minutes it took for Stan to find her until she got sick of counting the minutes towards something that would never happen. She could hear her thoughts so clearly. She could hear how ugly they had become.

There were a lot of things she could do in the silence. And there seemed to be a lot of silence these days.

Karen thought back to the early days of their marriage, the promises that Stan tried to make. She had to hand it to him; for a little while, he actually kept them. He was an active presence in her life, in their marriage. He always made sure he was home before she went to bed, even if it was just to spend a few moments together before her eyes became too heavy to talk. He would call her when he found a break in his day. He would take her along on business trips so he could still see her while he worked. It was nothing like her last marriage. She had gotten used to it, and shut off the part of her brain that told her she shouldn't.

She shouldn't have shut that part off so willingly.

Everything regressed so slowly that she didn't even notice it had. She would miss a trip here and there, but didn't think anything of it. There were one or two nights where she didn't see Stanley, but she chalked it up to his workload; at least it didn't happen often. But eventually, one or two turned into more. Eventually, they became more and more frequent. Eventually, she stopped traveling with him altogether. But it was such a long and drawn out process to get to that point, Karen felt the same indifference to her situation now that she did at the start. Then one day, she realized she couldn't remember the last time she heard Stanley's voice. It had to have been sometime during that week; there was no way they could go that long without speaking to each other, without noticing that they hadn't spoken to each other. She tried to pick out the day, and was blown away when she couldn't do it.

How did they get here? How did the slow and steady approach that had worked so well for them before turn against them now? How could she slip into old patterns so easily?

How could she not notice the silence?

Karen wanted so badly for this to be different. And she knew she had to be the one to act. She started floating the idea of a quick getaway. Just the two of them, nothing extravagant, simply to have some time together without work or the city or anything else getting in the way. Stanley played along, reminded her about the cabin in Vermont, where they had spent time in the early days of their marriage. There would be no one around for miles. They could get back to the way they were. It seemed like a perfect plan.

But on the way there, Stanley kept commenting on how far away this place was, how it was such a chore to make the trip. And he kept musing about selling it after this trip, walking back his intentions when Karen said that she liked the cabin too much to let go of it. Once they arrived in Vermont, there was a whole new silence, and it had filled up every inch of the cabin. Except this time, she couldn't escape it by roaming the city, looking for ways to pass the time. There was no one around for miles. The way they were was long gone. It was a perfect disaster.

That was months ago. And the speed at which they fell back into their New York routine was astonishing; Karen's inability to get back up and dust herself off didn't surprise her in the least.

It wasn't as though she was about to throw herself back into the scene, to look for someone who would say they could give her what she was looking for and then actually deliver. She was too tired; as far as she was concerned, this was the finish line. She simply wished there was a way to combat the silence. And, if she was being completely honest, she wanted a way to reconnect with herself, too. She wanted a place that was hers, someplace where she didn't feel the growing chill of the manse on her skin, someplace where she could choose to be alone instead of having the solitude forced upon her.

Somewhere in the middle of a week's worth of Stanley's late nights, she had an idea.

One morning, when she woke up and saw that Stan had already left for the office, she hurried to get herself ready for the day. It wasn't as though her husband would do anything to stop her, even if he was here, but she had a long drive ahead of her. She packed some clothes and makeup into a bag, and was headed out the door before she stopped herself. There was no way she could leave without the boxes; they were the only things left she could truly claim as her own. She hurried up the stairs, to her closet, where she picked up two of her boxes from her Greenwich Village past-filled with her old paperbacks, she assumed-all that she could carry with her to the car. She put all of her things into the back seat of Stanley's car. And she drove herself to Vermont.

The cabin felt different now that she was by herself. It was peaceful, it was calm. It was hers. She threw her bag on the couch in the living room, grabbed a glass and opened a bottle of wine that was resting in the rack before taking her boxes upstairs and claiming a bedroom. She stared at the boxes on the bed as she drained her Cabernet. It shouldn't be this hard to open them; the whole reason she brought them along in the first place was to finally unpack the life she had once known, remind herself of the person she used to be without anyone around to interrupt her. She ran her finger along one of them, playing with a corner of packing tape that had started to curl up. What were you so afraid of, Karen?

That she would open these up and be unable to recognize the girl these pages belonged to, of course.

She took a breath and braced herself. She peeled back the tape of the first box and opened the flaps, revealing some of her old clothing she had completely forgotten about. Of course there would be clothing in with the books; by the end of her packing process, she was so ready to get it over with that she stuffed anything within reach into random boxes. "Oh, my god," she said aloud as she picked up a light pink sweater. She remembered how Sophie used to smile and tell her how beautiful she looked in it every time she wore it; she remembered how that made her want to wear it every chance she got. Karen buried her face in it for a moment, to see if it still smelled like that life. It was silly, she knew, not just because it had been fourteen years since she packed this box, but because she couldn't even remember how the house used to smell, how Sophie's perfume used to smell, how it sounded every time Sophie commented on the sweater. But it made her feel like she found a marked path back to herself, and she gladly took it. She slid the top she was wearing off and replaced it with the sweater that surprisingly still fit. She laid the rest of the clothing from the box to the side and dug deeper into the cardboard walls, her fingers brushing against the motherlode. Weathered pages, creased covers, broken spines. Sophie's collection of Edna St. Vincent Millay poems. The copy of _The Brothers Karamazov_ Karen was reading the first time she saw her raven-haired stranger in the park.

The copy of _Desert of the Heart_ Sophie slid onto Karen's bench, giving her a home and a family in the process.

She held the book gingerly, as though one wrong move would make it turn to dust. If she couldn't remember how the house smelled or how certain words sounded when they were wrapped around Sophie's tongue, she could certainly remember being twenty-two years old and feeling the chill in the air as she sat on the bench in Washington Square Park, hoping to catch a glimpse of her stranger. She could remember burying her look of disappointment in her book when she couldn't find her. She could remember the sound of the paperback hitting the bench and the way she ran her fingers over Sophie's handwriting on the inside cover. She could remember the way it all felt back then.

It was a feeling she sorely missed now.

Karen placed the book on the nightstand and finished unpacking the boxes. She found some hangers in the closet to place her old clothing on. She couldn't help but smile. It wasn't as though she felt like she lost her sense of self in the years since the Village; she had merely modified herself over time to fit her new starts. She adapted. But here, in this cabin, far away from New York, in this room filled her past life, her best life, she felt more herself than she had in years. Karen knew she would stay with Stan; she was thirty-eight years old and tired of running towards something that didn't exist. But knowing that she had this space-with its pleasant reminders and peaceful solitude-would make it easier to live with.

That was all she wanted: something she could live with.

She grabbed _Desert of the Heart_ from the nightstand along with her glass and made her way back downstairs. She sat down on the couch and poured herself some more Cabernet before she opened up the book. She ran her fingers along Sophie's handwriting the same way she did when she was twenty-two. And as she started reading, she couldn't tell if the tears were because she was overwhelmed by these words she hadn't seen in years, or by the fact that she felt Sophie so strongly in the moment. Either way, she welcomed it. It was cathartic. It was long overdue.

She had a feeling she was going to spend a lot more time in this cabin.

* * *

 _1999_

Will knew something was off.

He had gotten back from Connecticut early enough to know that Grace would still be in bed. Which was why he was instantly on alert when he walked into his apartment to see the lights on. He left his suitcase by the front door as he scanned the living room. "Grace?" He called out, furrowing his brow when he saw the red power light on the stereo shining. No answer. He found a half-empty bottle of wine on the kitchen counter, felt a twinge of annoyance that Grace decided against cleaning up after herself (of course she would slack off the minute he went out of town). But it was when he moved to turn off the stereo that he spotted the coat thrown over the sofa by the TV. It didn't look like Grace's coat. He must have still been tired from the drive, because if he had to guess, he'd say it belonged to someone more like Karen.

He scoffed to himself. As if Karen would ever leave anything of hers behind here. Grace must have picked it up while he was gone. He shook his head and tried again to call for his best friend.

"Grace?"

In her bedroom, Grace's eyes fluttered open to find Karen resting peacefully in her arms. She planted a kiss on her shoulder and nestled in her hair. She knew it had only been four days, but to be able to wake up to this in her own home every morning made her forget what it was like to wake up any other way. Karen sighed in her sleep when Grace pulled her in closer, the redhead's chest pressed against the dark haired woman's back. For a moment, Grace played with the notion of skipping work altogether today, staying in bed with her girl, only leaving the apartment when they needed to. What was the point of being her own boss if she couldn't cash in on the perks every once in a while? But then she heard a voice. His voice.

"Grace?"

No.

"Are you awake?"

No, no, no, no.

Grace's heart dropped to her stomach. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. He shouldn't be here right now. She was supposed to have three more days. She didn't have a plan. But she had to move. She tried to untangle herself from Karen as carefully as she could so as not to wake the dark haired woman. She threw on the t-shirt from last night, stumbled into a pair of pajama pants that had been thrown on the floor at some point during her time playing house with Karen. She padded her way to the door, cursing herself for leaving it open, hoping to god Will hadn't had the chance to peek inside yet. She closed the door most of the way, not wanting questions from him as to why she closed it when they were clearly the only two here. She took a breath, plastered on a smile she hoped looked genuine, and made her way to the living room.

"Will!" she said with a little too much enthusiasm. "What are you doing here? You weren't supposed to be back for another few days."

"I don't know what made me think I could stay there for a whole week," he said, exasperated. "Between my mother's passive aggressiveness and my brother's thinly veiled homophobia, there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make that tolerable." Underneath all the anxiousness, Grace did feel sorry for him. She had gotten used to Marilyn Truman's brand of motherhood over the years, but she remembered the last time she saw Paul, and she remembered the way he treated Will. She wanted to comfort him, but she watched as he picked up the bottle of wine Karen had opened last night, and she froze. "Speaking of," Will said as he swirled what was left of the wine around in the bottle, "it looks like you had a good time last night."

She tried to laugh it off. "Yeah, you know, I went to grab something from my room, and I made the mistake of sitting down on the bed. I guess work took it out of me yesterday." Grace could feel that her eyes were a little wider than they should be, and shifted her gaze to her feet so she wouldn't give herself away. She couldn't tell which was worse: the silence that was starting to suffocate her, or the feeling of Will's eyes still on her, the heat of his stare burning her.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally. She wasn't sure if there was actually judgement in his voice or if she was imagining it. "Maybe you should think about scaling back for a little while. You've been wearing yourself out with work lately."

This was a minefield, and there was no safe place for Grace to take a step. She tried to craft her words as carefully and quickly as she could. "It's fine," she said, shaking her head. "I'm fine."

"Grace, it's not fine." He moved in closer, put his hand on her shoulder and got her to meet his gaze. "I know you're trying to get your name out there, but you've got to take care of yourself. I mean, you're working straight through the weekends, you stay late at the office more often than not. Something's got to give."

"Listen...I get that you're trying to help, and I appreciate that. I really do. But trust me, I've got work handled."

"Really?" She nodded. "Then what is it? What's going on with you? You haven't been acting like yourself the last few months." That was funny; she could have sworn she was more herself in the last few months than she had ever been. She was searching for an answer as he continued. "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you keep sneaking off. God, if I didn't know any better, I'd say…" He froze for a moment before the unmistakable look of realization crept across his face. It instantly made Grace weaken. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed as an astonished smile started to show itself. "You met someone!"

"Will…" She tried so hard to say something, anything, else. But it felt as though all of her vocabulary had been pushed out of her mind, and she was left defenseless.

"It's Ryan, isn't it? I knew you two would hit it off."

"I'm not seeing Ryan." She thought of their old college classmate, how Will's little act of kindness almost destroyed everything she had built with Karen. At once, she felt relieved that Ryan never told Will the reason she let him down, and the utter dread that came along with her best friend's new line of questioning. There was no way this would end well. There was no way she could lead him to another subject. She was screwed. She knew it.

"Oh, god, don't tell me you got back together with Danny."

"God, no!" Just the thought of it made Grace's skin crawl.

"Then spill! Who is he? What does he do? Is he cute? Is he cuter than me?" he asked with a wink in his voice.

Grace sighed, helpless. "Can we just talk about this later?" Her voice was starting to crack.

"Come on, it's not like you have to sneak around. You can tell me. Where'd you meet him?" Him. It was always a him. There was a part of her that wanted to correct Will, but the part of her that wanted to protect the secret swooped in. "I'm kind of impressed you found someone, actually. You spend all your time at work, and there's no one there except Karen." Her name felt like a punch to Grace's gut. She couldn't stop staring at Will, watching as he started piecing together a story she wasn't prepared to tell. The furrowing of his brow, the wide-eyed look she hated to see. "Oh my god," he murmured.

Grace took a breath. "Look, Will..."

"Oh my god! It's a client, isn't it? That's what all those late hours at the office are for!" She saw the smirk growing on his face and the wicked shine in his eyes, and she felt sick. She could hear him speculating, but she couldn't process the words anymore. This isn't how she wanted to tell him about Karen. This isn't how she wanted to do anything. Between Will rambling on in front of her, and her own thoughts going haywire in her mind, it was all too loud. Even if she wanted to tell him about Karen now, she couldn't find the words in the jumbled mess her head had become. She wanted it to end, and she wanted it to end now.

"Would you stop?" she shouted. "I am not seeing anyone!"

In that instant, it felt as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room, and she knew it was all her doing. It was pure reflex, a loud, sharp reflex to get him off her back. She could have said anything else, something that could have actually bought her some time, something that could have paved the way towards the inevitable. Instead, she was digging herself deeper into this hole, making it harder and harder to climb back out again. At the very least, she hoped that she didn't wake Karen up with her outburst; to explain herself to the dark haired woman would be damn near impossible. To explain herself to _herself_ was damn near impossible. The ease of lying startled her as much as her adamance had startled him. Grace sighed and tried to collect herself. "Will...if something was going on, I would tell you," she said, weary and hoping she had at least left the door open for her to eventually lead Karen in by the hand.

His eyes narrowed. She knew he probably wasn't completely convinced, but at this point, she didn't care. "Promise?" he asked.

"Promise."

Will offered up a smile. "I'm sorry," he said as he took her in his arms and kissed her cheek. "I just worry about you sometimes." She relaxed against him, relieved that it was over. "It doesn't help that I'm exhausted out of my mind. I'm going to try to get some sleep." Grace watched him retreat to his bedroom, refusing to move until she heard his door shut behind him. She gave herself an extra moment to calm her nerves before she made her way to her own room, making sure the door was closed all the way once she walked in.

She studied Karen as the dark haired woman was resting in the morning sunlight. She silently thanked God that Karen was still asleep, oblivious to everything that existed outside of this room. She couldn't believe how peaceful her girl looked in this moment. She didn't have the heart to ruin it. It would be simple; she would get them out of here while Will was still sleeping, she would wait until Karen came back from lunch to make it seem like Will called to tell her he was coming home early. She would bring Karen's things to the manse. Maybe they could even finish out their week there; after all, Karen did say something about Stan being away on business. Not that Stan being home had ever stopped them before. They would still have time to plan what they would say to Will, how to tell him about them. It could work.

Or she could tell Karen what really went on while she was sleeping. She could drag her down into this mess she made. She could try to explain the things she said even though she was at a complete loss for an explanation. It wouldn't be pretty, but it would be the truth. Grace couldn't decide which was the more disastrous plan. She couldn't tell which one would do less damage once it hit the air.

She knelt down beside the bed and ran her fingers through Karen's hair. She let her touch travel down to the dark haired woman's shoulder as she gently tried to wake her. "Kare," she murmured. "Kare, wake up."

Karen's eyes fluttered open, and she gave a small, tired smile. "Good morning," she said in a sleep-heavy whisper.

The redhead froze in her place, unsure of what to do. Karen's eyes were on her, still adjusting to the morning but expectant. Just pick a plan, Grace. You have to do something. Anything. Pick a plan.

"We...we should probably start getting ready. We're going to be late for work." As Karen got up, Grace stayed in her place as she buried her face in her hands. She just set herself up for a terrible fall. The only thing left to do was brace herself and hope that she would be able to get up when all was said and done. She had to believe that it would be okay. This one little setback wouldn't be enough to derail everything they built over the last few months. They were stronger than that.

They had to be.

If Karen had noticed anything in Grace's voice, she didn't say. She simply let the silence wash over them as they each maneuvered their way around the bedroom. Grace tried not to let the quiet unsettle her. She tried to look forward to the office, to being able to speak to Karen without the fear of being overheard by a certain roommate with truly terrible timing.

In the silence, Karen could watch Grace move. She could study the redhead as she rifled through her drawers until she found a shirt she deemed suitable, searched her closet for a skirt to match. She could put together an outfit out of the things she had packed for the week. She could get dressed with her back turned towards Grace, as though modesty were an issue. She could wait her turn for the tiny mirror so she could fix her hair and apply her makeup and make it look like she hadn't just spent a night in her lover's apartment. She could slip into the bathroom to brush her teeth and assess herself in a better light.

She could put on a front, just like Grace.

She wasn't used to silence with the redhead. But in it, Karen didn't have to tell her that she had woken up the second Grace's touch had left her body. She didn't have to tell her that she heard everything Grace said to Will. And she didn't have to say that she had no clue what to do about it.


	24. Bad Blood

" _ **Forgive me, for I am not acting myself  
**_ _ **But these bees in my breath have to come out  
**_ _ **You give me no reason to doubt your word  
**_ _ **But I still somehow, still have my reasons  
**_ _ **And I'm sorry, I don't mean to scare you at all  
**_ _ **I'm just trying to drain all this bad blood  
**_ _ **All this bad blood  
**_ _ **All my bad blood"  
**_ _ **-Bear's Den, "Bad Blood"**_

 _1998: Age 39_

 _From the diary of Karen Walker: "Sometimes, you bottle things up and put them away. You don't have to deal with them again. But sometimes, you run out of room in the bottle. And then it all spills out."_

She had to get out of the manse. Now.

Usually, Karen would start to get the feeling-the one that kept her restless and squirming in her seat-and start planning her escape. Pack a bag, grab the keys, set off for the cabin before the feeling became unbearable. She could have a fire roaring and a bottle of wine opened before she reached her breaking point. She could light a cigarette and let her problems drift away with the smoke. And in a couple of days, she could journey back to Manhattan with a renewed will to start the cycle of bottling it all up again. But this time, the feeling had started as the most miniscule itch, something she could easily ignore. And she did ignore it for a while. There would be little things to add to the feeling, things that could easily be bottled up and pushed to the side. But those little things started to grow. And tonight, as Stan came home from work and immediately started packing his bags for a business trip, she felt like she was about to lose her mind.

It wasn't as though she would have gone with him; those days had long passed them by, and she wasn't in the mood to revisit them. She just wished he thought she deserved to know sooner than the night before that he was leaving.

Karen knew there was no point in talking to him about it, but she couldn't help standing in the doorway of their bedroom, watching him throw his clothing into a suitcase. His back was turned towards her, and she knew he didn't hear her footsteps. She could have argued, she could have yelled. But she didn't think he deserved the satisfaction. She leaned against the door frame with her arms folded across her chest, and murmured, "Must be nice to take off at the last minute." It was all the effort she wanted to give. Karen shook her head and started to walk away when she heard her husband's voice, soft and unmoved.

"It's no different than your little trips to Vermont."

Karen froze in her tracks and whipped her head around, glaring at her husband. Stanley's back was still towards her, he was still minding his own business. It was as if nothing was ever said, nothing had ever happened. He made no move to acknowledge her. It was almost as if he wanted her to think she was imagining the whole thing. If this was a decade ago, she knew he wouldn't go out of his way to drive her crazy. Now, she wasn't so sure. Now, she felt everything coming to the surface, and she knew there was no way she could stand the long and exhausting drive to the cabin. So she did the only thing she could think to do.

She walked out the door and hailed a cab.

It wasn't as though she was planning to go downtown; when she got into the taxi, she rattled off the first street that came to mind and settled into her seat. But when she found herself in the Village, she knew this was where she needed to be. Karen hadn't explored her old stomping grounds since she moved in with Jordan; she only ever made a point to be in Washington Square Park once a year for Sophie. When she stepped out into the city, though, she suddenly felt as though she were twenty-two again. Of course, the area had changed the way she had expected it to. But the spirit of this place was still in the air. And some things did stay the same. As she walked the streets, she saw that her favorite bookstore was still alive and well. The coffee shop Sophie and she used to meet the boys in before the sun set was still standing. She didn't have a set path. But she soon realized where her instincts were taking her. She slowed her pace as she got closer; whether it was out of nerves or the urge to take it all in, she couldn't be sure.

This was her old neighborhood. This was her old street. This was her old block. This was her old home.

Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the townhouse. She could see through the bay window that the light was on, and it instantly made her nervous. It had been almost fifteen years since she moved out of this place, since she last saw the boys; Daniel and Blake were probably long gone, if they were even still together. But she remembered living here, remembered the space, the warmth, the love. She remembered how special this house felt from the second she stepped inside. If circumstances had been different, she never would have left. And Daniel and Blake never wavered in the time that she knew them. They could very well be in there right now.

It could be so easy to knock on the door, say she had the wrong address if a stranger answered. But she wanted them to still be there, to still be in love. She wanted to know how they wore the fifteen years that had passed, if they had even aged at all. She wanted to know what they did with their lives and hoped it was something better than what she had done. She wanted to apologize for everything. She wanted to know if they thought about her as often as she thought about them. She wanted to know if they remembered her. She needed them to remember. She stood at the base of the stoop and looked up at the door, let her foot rest on the first step.

She wanted to go up there. But she was so far away from that life, from the person she was when she lived here, she just couldn't do it.

Karen shook her head and rushed past the townhouse, taking arbitrary turns, absently wandering until the threat of tears had disappeared. She stopped when she saw the neon lights shining through the windows and heard the music trying to spill out into the street. She smiled to herself for a moment; at one point in her life, she wouldn't have thought twice about walking in, sidling up to the bar and ordering a drink. At one point in her life, she very well could have walked into this place, although Karen couldn't remember off the top of her head. For all she knew, she and Sophie wandered in one night, wanting some time without the boys, finding a seat in the corner, Sophie's lips tinged with cheap beer as they kissed. Or maybe the four of them had spent a restless night here, making friends with the bartender and sticking around long enough to get a free round (Blake always seemed to be able to charm that way). Karen studied the building now, watched the people walking in and out, and wondered how she could miss something she wasn't even sure she had in the first place. She looked down at the Chanel on her body and thought about walking past the bar, continuing this aimless journey through her past until she got tired of thinking of who she used to be. It wasn't as though she could just walk in there without getting a few looks thrown her way.

Then again, when was the last time she cared about the looks she got?

When she walked in, she smelled beer in the air and heard the music fighting with the din of the crowd. She felt a few curious glances on her back as she made her way deeper inside and smiled to herself over how easy it was to shake them off. She saw a couple in the back of the bar, skin pressed against skin, swaying underneath the blues and reds and greens of the neon beer signs. It was hot, it was loud. It was a far cry from the hotel bar she used to frequent with Stan (she couldn't remember the last time they set foot in that place, anyway). This was a dive. And Karen absolutely loved it.

She found a free seat at the bar and claimed her place. She flagged down the bartender and ignored the look on his face as he studied her. "Whiskey on the rocks, honey." She felt so much of her mother right now, it just seemed like ordering her drink was the right thing to do. Karen had tried so hard to escape her shadow, to not claim Lois Whitley as her role model, to do things differently. And she did do things differently; she followed her heart, she fell in love, she put her trust in people without asking if they deserved it. But it never mattered how different their paths were; they both led to the same place. She ran her finger along the chips in the wood of the bar as the bartender slid her drink towards her. She stared at the glass in her hand and she murmured her own little toast, something her mother always said to her as a child on those nights when Lois dragged her to the bar and only checked on her daughter with slurred speech. "You're the best, baby." The whiskey was smooth going down, and she felt herself relaxing into her bar stool, letting her surroundings fade to black. And then...

"Are you sure you should be here?"

Karen startled at the voice beside her. She had been too wrapped up in her own world to notice someone taking the empty stool to her right, but now this smiling woman with wildfire curls and a beer in her hand had all of her attention. Karen watched as she tucked a curl behind her ear and continued. "You don't look like you belong here. I don't mean that as a bad thing. This place is kind of a dump. But it's cheap, so I guess that's a plus." There was something endearing in the way she rambled like that. As the woman took a sip of her beer, Karen inched closer to her without realizing it. "Although, I think I can safely assume that money is no issue."

"I swear I'm not trying to slum it," Karen smiled. The back and forth with this woman felt so effortless. She was eager to confide in her, tried to pull back when she overshared about her own problems, and was surprised when she heard the encouragement to keep going in the woman's voice. It should have surprised her to feel so safe so quickly with someone. But she had spent so much time bottling everything up, she didn't realize how badly she needed to let it out. It had been a long time since she felt comfortable. It didn't seem the slightest bit crazy that she felt so comfortable with someone she had never met.

"I don't even know your name," she said suddenly, wanting to feel the weight of it on her tongue, offering up her own for an even trade. "I'm Karen."

"Grace." Karen listened to the redhead talk about her own problems-that Danny guy seemed so far beneath her, it was no wonder she tried to escape it all tonight-her thoughts humming in the background the entire time. She thought that Grace was such a fitting name. She thought her laugh filled the place. She thought that the way she scrunched up her nose when she finally took a sip of the whiskey she ordered after watching Karen down it all night was kind of cute. She thought the way Grace gave her attention to her as she spoke was incredible, something she hadn't experienced in years. She thought she had a friend in this stranger.

Most of all, she thought of how criminal it would be if she never got to see the redhead again. And if this was the only night they had, she wanted to make sure they stayed here, in this moment, for as long as they possibly could.

* * *

 _1999_

They were slipping; Grace could feel it. And she was frozen, unable to do anything about it. She should have sensed it that morning, in the silence once Karen woke up, but she was too focused on getting them out of the apartment before Will ever found out. She should have sensed it that day, when Karen seemed so neutral in accepting her lie about Will calling to tell her about his early return, but she was too distracted by that deceptive wave of relief she felt when the matter seemed settled. She should have sensed it when she saw Karen neglected her magazine in favor of a pencil and a piece of paper, when she looked up from her sketchbook to see the dark haired woman working intently on her own project, but she was too focused on how stunning her love looked during her bout of productivity. She should have sensed it when Karen abruptly crumpled her work up into a ball and left the office, when she picked it up out of the trash and smoothed it out to reveal a sketch of Karen's own, but she was too concerned with making sure she put everything back where it was before the dark haired woman returned to really take it in. So many chances, and she never moved to figure it out.

But then Karen left for the day without asking Grace to come with her, even though Grace knew Stan wasn't home from his business trip yet. And she didn't call that night. And Will went about the apartment like nothing had happened, because in his world, nothing did happen. And when they came into the office the next morning, Karen didn't put a voice to anything that wasn't work related. And the redhead couldn't stop thinking about how something was seriously wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

She couldn't stop thinking she should have paid closer attention.

When Karen was "woken up" by Grace, she waited for an explanation. She waited for the redhead to tell her that Will was home, that she had said some things she didn't mean, and she wanted to work through this. She waited for an opportunity to tell her that they could talk at the office, that they could climb out of this hole. But when Grace slid past her reunion with Will entirely, something started to turn inside Karen's mind. And later, in the office, when Grace told her that Will had called from the road to let her know he was coming home early, that something became impossible to ignore. She didn't want to deal with it; she knew how this kind of thing always played out. She wasn't about to be the one to spark the beginning of the end. But her mind wasn't going to let it go.

Karen would look over her drink at the redhead working from across the room, but could never hold her gaze for too long. The conversation she had overheard that morning was still at the forefront of her mind, and Grace still hadn't mentioned it. She felt that bottle of things she would have said in the heat of the moment fill up rapidly: she deserved an explanation, she deserved the truth, she deserved something. Why didn't Grace get that?

She had to keep her cool; she had to keep occupied. She found herself reaching for a pencil and paper, and absently started to trace a few lines in an attempt to distract herself. It wasn't as though she set out to sketch this; she just needed something to do with her hands other than turn the pages of a back issue of _Vogue_. But as it started to take shape-a bird on a perch, inside an open cage-she realized she had drawn the tattoo that had once rested on Sophie's hip. Of course. It was just like her to sneak in through the back door in moments like this. Karen stopped being surprised by it years ago, stopped wondering whether her memory in these moments was taunting or hopeful, because she was never sure which option was worse. What did strike her was how sad the bird looked on paper. Something in the eyes looked almost mournful. For all she knew, it was just her imagination, but she couldn't take the way it was staring back at her. She couldn't take the air in here, filled with words and explanations waiting to be voiced but never getting the chance. It was getting harder to breathe. She needed to leave.

In one swift motion, Karen crumpled up the drawing and threw it in the trash, grabbing her coat and heading out the door for some fresh air. When she felt the chill of the New York winter on her skin, she fished around in her pocket for her lighter and a cigarette. She let the smoke fill her lungs, resolving to give Grace the benefit of the doubt as she slowly exhaled. Neither of them were admittedly great in a crisis. It was still early in the day. Who knows, Karen; maybe once you get back in there, she'll take you aside and admit to what she did. Maybe she'll apologize and pledge to tell Will everything. Grace was not Stan, or Jordan, or Sylvia. She was not Elizabeth or Wendy. Karen had said this to herself to many times in the last few months, out of hope, out of reassurance. She's not them. So give her a chance to show you that she's not.

When Karen came back to the office, Grace smiled in acknowledgement before turning back to whatever it was she was working on. They didn't say much of anything to each other for the rest of the day. On her way back to the manse, she felt her heart sink. She didn't know how much more she could take. She knew she couldn't keep doing this day after day.

Something had to give.

The day after Will's sudden homecoming, the silence still existed, and it got to be too much. Grace made her way to Karen's side of the office to use the fax machine (it was just easier to do it herself), when she realized she absolutely had to break the silence. She turned around to find Karen's back turned towards her, the dark haired woman's head lowered as she focused on her magazine. "Do you have plans tonight?" she asked, trying to ease into it, although what "it," was, she still wasn't certain. She hoped the words didn't sound as awkward when they hit the air as they felt when they were on her tongue. "Can we have dinner after work?"

Karen didn't even make a move to face her. "But I thought you weren't seeing anyone."

The words pierced Grace through and through. It was impossible. Karen had been sleeping through all of it, so it was impossible. Except she knew Karen, and she knew that Karen would keep quiet when she needed to. She had had the opportunity to come clean right there in front of her. An opportunity that she didn't take. An opportunity that could have saved them from all of this. If she had known that Karen was awake… "So you heard us the other day," she said as she made her way around Karen's desk so she could face her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The dark haired woman scoffed as she glared at the redhead. "You're really going to turn this on me? Why didn't _you_ tell me the truth?"

"What good would have possibly come out of recounting that?"

"It would have been honest. It would have been easier to work through. Tell me it was a reflex, tell me you misspoke, tell me anything, and we could have fixed it." Karen shook her head. "You had a chance, Grace. It may not have been packaged exactly the way you wanted it, but you had a chance to tell Will about us, and you blew it."

"Since when are you so concerned with honesty? I'm not the only one sneaking around behind someone's back for this, Karen. You can tell me you don't love Stan, but it doesn't change the fact that you've been lying to him this whole time." Grace could hear how harsh she sounded. She didn't offer an apology, but she did take a breath and try to take a different tack. "I was caught off guard. We didn't have a plan. I didn't want to wing it. I still don't. And it's not like it's going to go well if I tell him now, not after the other morning. I wouldn't know what to say."

"What the hell is so hard about telling him? He wants you to be happy. Just tell him what makes you happy!"

"Look, it's not like he's going to be thrilled over this! I have to word it the right way. I don't want to make things worse…"

The same excuses, over and over and over. Passing through the redhead's lips one time too many. Karen felt the cork popping on the bottle that contained everything she felt over the last two days, every fleeting doubt she ever had about them over the last few months, everything she never meant to say. There was no stopping her now. "Oh, spare me, Grace. He's a grown man. He'll get over it. I mean, good lord...Jack knows, and the world hasn't ended!" She regretted it as soon as she said it. Funny how Jack could keep her secrets better than she could. She could see Grace's eyes growing wider at the revelation.

"Jack knows about us? How...when did you tell him?!"

"I didn't! He figured it out a long time ago. I made him promise not to say anything. But if he was able to put it together, I can guarantee you Will's got some questions kicking around in his head right now."

"No. There is no way he caught on. I was so careful. If anything, he thinks I hooked up with some guy. You're not even on his radar. You couldn't be."

Grace's adamance made Karen pause and study the redhead. The way she wanted so desperately to believe that Will was still in the dark astounded the dark haired woman. And regardless of whether it was an accurate picture, there was a precedent, and the pieces started coming together. "Oh my god," she sighed. "I get it now."

Grace furrowed her brow. "Get what?"

"We were never going to be real. You would be perfectly fine with late nights in the office and trips to the cabin, never changing, never moving towards anything. Promising things in the moment that you never intended to deliver on."

"What? No, that's not…"

"Oh, come on. Just say it. You never wanted to tell Will. You never wanted to tell anybody. You are so content to keep me as your dirty little secret. And you know what? It was fun at first. Fooling around in the swatch room. Disappearing together for a couple of days. But it's not fun anymore. I'm not going to be relegated to the shadows just because you're ashamed of this, or because it's not what's expected of you."

They were sliding into the past, Karen's past; Grace could feel it. And she wished she was better equipped for this. She wished she would have asked more questions. But it didn't stop her from trying. "Karen, I'm not! It's not true! Why won't you believe me?"

The dark haired woman continued as though she didn't hear the redhead; with the thoughts that were racing through her head, maybe she didn't. "Every single time. Wendy. Sylvia. Elizabeth. God, even Stan at first. Secrets stop being fun, but nothing ever changes. Everyone leaves. It's never different. It never will be."

Grace tried to keep up with the names she was never privy to, the history she wasn't sure of. Even with the few times Karen opened up to her, she had no idea what she had been through, what made her hesitate, what made her want to run. "Karen," she started cautiously, wanting something to hold on to, to do something, anything. "Tell me what to do to..."

"I can't keep doing this!" Karen's voice was louder than she wanted it to be, but she couldn't control it. "I can't keep doing secrets, Grace. I can't keep doing cycles. This has been my whole life, and you know that. I'm just tired. I am so tired. I'd rather be alone than go through this again."

The redhead stood in front of the dark haired woman, wounded, rooted the the ground. She swallowed the urge to ask Karen if she really meant it, because she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. Instead, she tried to steady her speech in spite of her nerves. "Look, can we...can we just take a breath?" she asked wearily. She watched as Karen folded her arms in front of her and lowered her gaze to her feet. "Nothing is coming out the way I want it to. Maybe...maybe we can come back to this tonight with clearer heads. Come over. Stay the night. We can talk about how to tell Will. We can fix this."

Karen let her breath out slowly. She still hadn't looked Grace in the eye. "Honey, I don't know…"

Grace couldn't tell what was worse: the fact that the dark haired woman had called her something so generic like "Honey," or the fact that she seemed so exhausted, so resigned, when she said it. The redhead tried not to let it deter her as she willed Karen to meet her gaze. "Kare, please...I need you to trust me." She took a step towards her, and then another, until she was close enough to take her love's face in her hands. "Let me make this better."

Karen paused for a moment, finally locking her eyes on Grace's. She couldn't speak; she could only nod.

That night, she waited at the manse until Grace called to let her know that the coast was clear, that Will was asleep. She grabbed a few things to take with her before she walked out the door. She took her time getting to Riverside Drive, not because she wanted to make sure that Will wouldn't wake up at the sound of her arrival, but because she wanted to make sure the unease she felt in her chest died down enough to be tolerable. When she got there, she let her finger hover over the "9" in the elevator for a moment before she finally pressed it. She knocked softly on the door of 9C and watched it reveal a tentatively hopeful redhead on the other side who took her hand and led her in. She took off her heels and tiptoed to Grace's room and hated that she had to go back to doing this again. She felt Grace wrap her arms around her and couldn't help but notice it felt different this time, although perhaps it was all in her head. She got undressed across the room from Grace, listening to the redhead's detailed speech she planned to give to Will in the morning, something she obviously spent all evening working on. She nodded when Grace asked her if it was good enough. She nodded when Grace asked her if she wanted to be out there with her when she told him. She nodded when Grace asked her if they could get past this. She didn't pay much attention to what she was nodding to anymore.

It wasn't until they had climbed into bed and let the sheets settle over their skin when Karen slid her hand over Grace's stomach and finally said what was on her mind. "I'm sorry," she murmured, soft enough to make the redhead think she imagined it. And Karen was sorry, for waiting until the breaking point to say something, for acting in a way Grace wasn't used to from her. For expecting this to be different. "I think maybe I need to go away for a little while."

Grace propped herself up on her elbow, studied the dark haired woman's sleepy gaze. A cabin trip wouldn't be the worst thing in the world right now. They could tell Will about their relationship as soon as they woke up, make sure they left him on the best terms they possibly could, then give him some time alone to process it all while they embarked on a new chapter. One that was out in the open. One that didn't signify the end of the story. Leave it to Karen to come up with the perfect plan. Grace stroked her hair and offered a small smile. "We can leave in the morning," she said. It was that simple. It could always be that simple.

Karen nodded and rested her head against the redhead's chest. She let the silence surround them, because after everything that spilled out of the bottle, she couldn't muster the strength to tell her love that she misunderstood. She stared at the door, wondering if Will would wake up in the middle of the night and wonder why Grace's bedroom door was closed. She almost wanted him to open it out of curiosity, just to see what would happen. She felt Grace's breathing even out into sleep, and even though her eyes were heavy with sleep, her body wouldn't let her rest. Because she meant what she said.

She had to get out of the apartment. Now.


	25. The Acrobat

" _ **My love, she is my saving grace  
**_ _ **She holds me through the winter  
**_ _ **Knowing well that I will leave  
**_ _ **Still, she holds me closer"  
**_ _ **-Johnathan Rice, "The Acrobat"**_

 _1999: Age 39_

 _From the diary of Karen Walker: "This is how I know you'll break my heart."_

When all of this is said and done, what she will remember most is how strong Grace's hold on her was that night. She will remember marveling at how sleep had not weakened the redhead's strength. She will remember questioning whether or not she was actually asleep, because she couldn't recall a time when she was held so tightly so late at night. She will remember the fleeting thought that Grace could read her mind-or, at the very least, she understood what she meant after all-and was doing all she could to keep her from leaving. She will remember the fleeting thought that it would just be easier to wake up with her in the morning, that it might hurt less if she did. She will remember telling herself that it would certainly hurt worse if she had to look Grace in the eye. She will remember reassuring herself that this was what she had to do.

She will remember all of it: this was the only thing she knew for sure.

Karen looked over at the clock on Grace's nightstand, watching it shine 5:45 on her. Her body had let her sleep for a couple hours, but it would not let her miss her window for escape; she knew that Will started his morning routine at seven sharp, that she had little more than an hour to make a clean getaway. She could feel Grace's breath on her neck, the even in and out caressing her skin like it was trying to soothe her into staying. But she had a one-track mind; nothing could stop her now. She sighed and slowly tried to loosen Grace's hold on her, careful not to wake her as she took the redhead's hand and gently moved it from her waist. Her legs were tangled with Grace's the way they had been every night they spent together, and it was the first time since they met that she wished they weren't. Every time she made a move to free herself, every time the mattress started to give, every time there was a creak of the springs, she paused to make sure Grace wasn't waking up. But the redhead was oblivious. She wouldn't see it coming.

The dark haired woman stood bedside for a moment, waiting to see if Grace would move. When she didn't, she tiptoed her way across the room to get dressed. Karen knew it was insane-the floor was carpeted and she knew it wouldn't creak under her feet-but she wasn't about to take any chances. She kept her eyes on the redhead as she slid back into her dress and fumbled with the zipper.

Grace hadn't budged; if Karen was going to do it, she had to do it now.

She grabbed her purse and slowly pulled out an old notebook filled with her words, her secrets, her past. This diary had weighed her down for so many years. She could never go back and read everything she had written before; she had already lived through it all once, and she didn't have the stomach to live through it again. But then Grace came along, and she found herself going back through her words about the redhead during long nights at the manse with nowhere else to turn. The hurried extra entry she wrote the night they met, filled with baffled electricity. The relief wrapped around the lines about finding her again, about making sure she could never lose her. The anger at herself as she wrote about that kiss, the one Grace stole during Stan's party that sent everything into overdrive. The comfort, the trust. The pure love of it all. It made her forget her history. It gave her hope. But now, as Karen held her history in her hands, she realized that Grace would be relegated to the pages that could never be read again.

Everyone leaves; they always do. It doesn't matter if they meant to or not. Intentions are nothing until they're acted upon. And every single time she trusted someone, they vanished into thin air when she needed them the most. It wasn't about to happen again; she would make sure of that. She needed to protect herself; she needed to turn the tables. She looked down at the diary, gingerly flipped through the pages, gazing at her handwriting without processing the words. This was why she needed to leave.

This was why she needed to let go.

Karen found the tote Grace brought to work every morning and quietly rummaged around in it until she found a pad of sticky notes and a pen. In the blue of the early morning, she peeled off a sticky note, pressed it to the diary and wrote down the only goodbye she could think to write: _This is how I know you'll break my heart_. She sneaked over to Grace's side of the bed and rested the diary on the nightstand. Grace had always wanted to know more about her past. If things had gone differently, if Will had come home when he was supposed to and they had any sort of plan they could put into play, she might have told the redhead herself. But at least this way, Grace would still get it all in Karen's words. That is, if she cared to read it.

She stood over the bed, Grace resting peacefully, curled up in between the sheets, and she knew she shouldn't tempt fate. But she couldn't help herself. She pulled the comforter up to Grace's shoulders and could feel her relax under the warmth. She softly ran her fingers through the redhead's curls and pressed her lips to Grace's forehead, lingering a few moments longer than she knew she should. By the time she pulled away, she had mustered enough strength to walk away.

On her way out, she couldn't shake the image of Grace smiling in her sleep.

Karen opened the door slowly before she put her shoes on; if this was going to be her last night here, she wasn't about tiptoe around Will's door to keep her secret. She knew she had a little time before his alarm went off. Part of her wanted to stand in the doorway, just like this, waiting for him to come out of his room and discover what had been under his nose all along. But she couldn't do that to Grace; after everything, she could never do that to Grace. Her heels clicked softly against the hardwood floors as she walked out of the redhead's room and out of apartment 9C. When she closed the front door behind her, she was surprised that it felt so final. She guessed that was how it was supposed to feel.

She didn't need much from the manse, just a few clothes, her makeup, that bottle of wine she had been saving for herself. _Take what you need, make a swift exit_ , she kept telling herself on her way there. She could stand being inside that house about as much as she could stand being at Grace's right now. She should have been in and out in a minute. But she saw the suitcases when she walked in the front door, and she cursed her luck. She knew Stan was supposed to come home today; she just didn't realize he meant the earliest possible moment. Karen wondered what the hell was so important here that would require a red-eye back to Manhattan as she grabbed the car keys and slipped them into her coat pocket. She was about to make her way upstairs when her curiosity made her stop in her tracks.

The dining table. The hefty little present she left for Stan, thanks to her shiny new lawyer. It seemed like it was another lifetime when she placed those divorce papers on the table for her husband to eventually find. It _was_ another lifetime, one where it didn't seem so terrifying to cut her ties to one person because she was holding the gentle hand of another, where walking to the other end of the tightrope didn't seem so bad when she knew there was someone to catch her. She had been so wrapped up in her week with Grace that she had completely forgotten about what she had done, until now. Stan probably didn't see them. He probably went straight upstairs to get some sleep. The papers were probably still there. They would probably pack the same punch she hoped they would once Stanley did see them. Probably.

But there wouldn't be any harm in double checking.

The dark haired woman made her way through the foyer, deeper and deeper into the manse until she reached the dining room. She turned on the light and gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness. When she looked to the table, she saw that the divorce papers were gone.

Karen's nerves were thrown into overdrive. She knew that this was something she'd have to deal with once Stan returned; she set it in motion, she would see it through. But to know that he was somewhere in this house with her plan for her future in his hands was too much to take, especially after leaving Grace. Maybe she could slip out of here before he notices; it wasn't like it couldn't be done. Go to Vermont, spend a couple of days in solitude, come back with a clear head, deal with it later. She knew, regardless of any future (or lack thereof) with Grace, that this was what had to be done; she simply couldn't fake it anymore. But she had already put it off for nearly two years; what was another few days, in the grand scheme of things? It wasn't like she was running towards some brilliant future anymore.

She wasn't running towards anything good.

Karen rushed upstairs and grabbed a suitcase. She started blindly throwing things into it; whatever she forgot, she surely had in the cabin. She just wanted to get out of here. She wanted to start that drive. She wanted to be alone. She moved until the suitcase was full and zipped it up. She slipped her hand into her pocket to run her fingers against the metal of the car keys, that feeling of reassurance that soon, she will be at peace. When she wheeled her suitcase to the hallway, she saw that a light was on a few doors down. Stanley was awake, in his office, doing god knows what. Karen could go on as if she never noticed; part of her thought she should go on that way. The quicker she got in the car, the quicker she could leave all of this in the dust. But she knew he had the papers. And in spite of it all, she wanted to hear what he had to say.

Devil. Nothing was ever easy.

She left her suitcase behind as she made her way towards Stan's office. She hovered in the doorway for a moment, watching him pace the length of the room, unsure if he realized she was there. The divorce papers were on his desk; he had to have looked through them by now. Karen took a breath and realized she couldn't put it off any longer. "Stanley," she said softly.

Stan stopped, but he wasn't able to look her in the eye just yet. "Do you remember," he said after a moment, "that stretch of time when we didn't speak?"

 _You mean when you neglected to tell me you were married? Or the other month for absolutely no reason?_ Karen bit her tongue at the thought. She didn't want to be defensive, she didn't want to be cruel. She didn't want to automatically blame him. She wanted to hear him. She wanted to give him a chance. She stayed silent, nodding even though she knew he couldn't see it.

"Three years of silence. I was miserable because I had lost you. So when you called me out of the blue, I promised myself I would do whatever I needed to make sure I wouldn't lose you again." He finally looked up and met Karen's gaze. "I wish I could pinpoint the moment I broke that promise."

He was so genuine that it took Karen by surprise. All that time spent in silence, she was bound to move towards the wrong conclusions, to stay with them until they become the truth. Underneath it all, Stanley Walker was not a bad person; he was simply the wrong one. But that wasn't his fault. They were both tired. They had both taken comfort in the connection without wondering how to keep it growing. They both thought this was the final stop. She never meant to be the one who realized it wasn't.

"I don't know if it was one particular moment, honey," she finally said. "We just slid into it so slowly that we didn't even notice."

"I should have noticed. I should have done something. I'm sorry that you were so unhappy."

Confrontation would have been easier, Karen knew. Get fired up, shout over the walls her history made her put up. She wouldn't have to face any feelings she didn't want to face, because anger always overshadowed everything else. But Stan sounded so defeated, so vulnerable. And she couldn't take it. "I wasn't making things much better," she conceded. "At some point, I just stopped trying. It seemed easier that way. But it wasn't fair to either of us."

"We could try again. Get back to the way we were. Clean slate."

"Stanley," Karen sighed, "we've been here for so long. I think we need to move on."

"Is that what she wants?"

She hoped to god her poker face was solid enough to keep the shock inside, where it belonged. It was just like Stan to figure it out, to keep it all to himself. For a moment, Karen wondered if he was actually aware of the times Grace was here, running to the emptiest parts of the manse, where no one else had set foot in ages. But that couldn't be it; if she was barely aware of him most days, she could only imagine how rarely he was aware of her, of them. When it came down to it, she put no effort into hiding it, and he wasn't stupid. She just wished she could ask when he figured it out.

Karen shook her head; there was no use trying to deny the last few months. "It doesn't matter," she said, her heart sinking as she said it, because right now, in this moment, it truly didn't. "I'm not doing this for her. I'm doing this for me. For us. You and I, we both deserve something more than what we have."

The look in Stan's eyes...she had never seen anything like it before, at least not from him. That unmistakable look of defeat. He knew she was right. And he knew there was nothing more that could be done. "I used to think I knew what you needed," he said softly. "Now, I'm not sure if I ever got it right."

"You did. For a while, at least. We were almost there; we just...we never quite seemed to get the hang of it, did we?" she asked with a sad smile.

"I guess not." Stan was silent for a moment, unsure of what to do. He stood there, studying his wife-the way she wrapped her arms around herself, her hand traveling up to her shoulder and back again as if she was reassuring herself, supporting herself when that should have been his job all along-before he offered up the only thing he could think of. "What do you need now?" he asked.

Such a deceptively simple question. Almost four decades in, and she couldn't think of one instance where she was ever sure of what she needed. Every time she came close, something always swooped in to show her she was wrong. Even now, she couldn't give him a definite answer. But she knew he needed one. She looked to the papers on his desk and gave him the only answer she could think of. "I don't need anything but a signature, Stanley." She wasn't bitter when she said it; she was merely resigned to the fact that they finally ran out of options. He nodded as he sat down at his desk and held the papers in his hands. She couldn't watch him do anything with them. She lowered her gaze to her feet and walked out of the office, grabbed her suitcase in the hallway, made her way out the front door and into the car.

She forgot how long the drive to Vermont was when there wasn't a smiling redhead in the passenger seat to keep her company.

When Karen walked into the cabin, she knew she would have to face at least a hint of Grace; what she didn't realize was how much of the redhead lived within the walls of this place. Her magazines mingled with Karen's on the coffee table. The mug she always drank out of sat on the kitchen counter ("Why put it away when I'm going to use it every morning?" Grace had asked; it made the dark haired woman laugh at how easy the logic was). Upstairs, Karen would find the perfume Grace had left behind, the robe that had been tossed to the bedroom floor during happier times. There were notes all around the cabin that Karen could never seem to throw away, for no other reason than they were in Grace's handwriting. _Heading into town, be back soon_ was held up by a magnet on the refrigerator. _I love you today_ was on the back of a takeout menu. They littered the table tops and rested inside drawers, a thousand words that were so trivial and so meaningful all at once. She thought of them and wished this wasn't the only place she could think of to go. She wished that when she brought Grace here, they hadn't turned her space into their space.

It had only been a few hours since she left, but she already missed Grace so unbearably much.

Karen eyed the phone by the staircase for a moment and considered her options. By now, Grace had woken up and realized the dark haired woman wasn't there. She had probably seen the diary on the nightstand, the note on top of the diary. She might have read a few pages. She might have tossed it to the side. She might have told Will; she might have kept her mouth shut. She might be angry at Karen; she might be confused. She might feel better if Karen called her to explain everything. Karen might feel better if she could just hear Grace's voice for one second. They might be able to work it out. She inched towards the phone and picked it up, running her fingers along the numbers without pressing down, tracing the line that would connect her to her redhead in no time at all. She was about to dial when she heard that pesky little voice in the back of her mind.

 _Think about what you're doing._ She wanted to laugh; she had done nothing but think about it. _Take a step back. Sleep on it._ Easier said than done. _You wanted the space; take it._ But was it really what she wanted?

She put the phone back in the cradle, and she climbed up the stairs to her bedroom. She couldn't call now, not when everything was so fresh. She didn't want to run on too much emotion and too little sleep. When she let herself fall into bed, she realized that Grace probably didn't want to hear her reasons anyway. At least, not right now.

Maybe it was a mistake, slipping away in the early morning hours. Maybe she shouldn't be here. Maybe she should have waited to see if Grace would keep her word, or at least waited long enough so that she could give a voice to her own doubts. Maybe it could have been fixed. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Karen didn't know. The thoughts fighting for space in her mind mixed with the long drive made her too exhausted to want to put this puzzle together. And it was too late to turn around and go back. Not that she would have had anywhere to go right now. She pulled the covers over herself and closed her eyes.

She'd figure it out after she woke up.


	26. Changing Your Habits

" _ **Darling, it starts with  
**_ _ **Changing your habits  
**_ _ **You won't get anywhere the easy way"  
**_ _ **-The Doodads & Don'ts, "Changing Your Habits"**_

 _1999_

Every once in a while, she would have one of those dreams that was so real, she swore she felt them. Maybe she brushed her arm against the mattress in her sleep, maybe she got tangled in her sheets, maybe she tossed and turned and her subconscious registered the turbulence from it, but when she'd wake up, she'd look around her bedroom in disbelief, her dream world completely vanished. This dream that she was in the middle of now was warm and safe and hopeful. A bright, open space. Standing in the center of a sea of people, but instead of chaos, there was an overwhelming sense of calm. Her love's arms were around her, no secrets. She felt a kiss pressed to her forehead, and she smiled as she saw the look in the eyes of those who were passing them by. She felt it. It was real. And then it was gone.

When she woke up, Grace's eyes adjusted to the sunlight pouring in through the windows as she touched her fingertips to her forehead, wondering what she could have possibly brushed up against in her sleep to get such a vivid dream out of it. She slid her hand over to Karen's side of the bed, hoping to grasp her hand but coming up empty. "Karen?" She looked around her bedroom and realized that the dark haired woman wasn't there.

"Kare?" she asked again, her voice still weighed down by sleep as she sat up in bed. She was probably out there making coffee, the same way she did every morning they had together in this apartment. The thought comforted Grace for a moment. Until she woke up a little more, and realized that they had to cut their week together short, that Will was just across the hall, that he could easily walk in on Karen before she even had the chance to turn the coffee maker on. That wasn't part of the plan; it wasn't how she wanted Will to find out, not when she finally figured out exactly what to say. Grace looked at the clock on her nightstand. 7:30...he'd be in the shower by now. There was still time to get out there, to join Karen and show a united front by the time Will came to the breakfast table. That is, if she hurried.

The redhead tossed the sheets off of her and raced to get dressed for the day. The silence outside of her room gave her hope that she hadn't missed her window. But as she started towards the door, she finally noticed a notebook on the nightstand that hadn't been there the night before. She picked it up and immediately recognized Karen's handwriting on the sticky note attached to the cover. She smiled at the curves of her love's words, until she saw what they said.

 _This is how I know you'll break my heart._

"What?" Grace asked softly, to herself, to no one. She furrowed her brow as she felt the weight of the notebook in her hands. Suddenly, the silence became unsettling. Suddenly, she could feel her nerves flutter into a frenzy. She looked around the bedroom and realized that all of Karen's things-her clothes, her coat, her purse-were gone. No evidence of their night together, nothing but a book she was too afraid to open. She clutched it to her chest and padded out into the living room, hoping against hope to find her girl resting on the couch or busying herself in the kitchen, getting ready for the day and the task they had looming in the very near future. But the kitchen was empty; the living room was still. Grace walked around the entire space, refusing to believe it. Because this was impossible. Karen couldn't have left without telling her first. She would have said goodbye.

But then last night came speeding to the forefront of her mind. Karen being quiet. Karen nodding along to everything she said without giving an opinion, without saying anything about anything. Karen's touch on her stomach as they settled into bed, a strange, cautious touch she wasn't used to from the dark haired woman. Karen apologizing for things she wasn't quite clear on, for things that were out of their control. Karen's last words before they fell asleep. _I think maybe I need to go away for a little while._ "I," not "we." Grace's heart sank.

That was it. That was her goodbye.

Grace took a seat at the dining table and sighed. She couldn't believe she didn't put it together while she still had the chance. But she had been so focused on telling Will, on how to do it, that she didn't think to check in with Karen. The dark haired woman showed up at her door; that was all the reassurance she needed. She wished she had known what was going on in Karen's head. She wished she would have thought to ask what was going on in Karen's head. But even though she never asked, Karen gave it to her. The dark haired woman left the notebook on the nightstand before she left; it had to explain everything. Nervously, Grace opened it, careful not to let the loose pages fall from it as she flipped through. With her mind going in a million different directions, she couldn't possibly take in anything that Karen had written. But these were Karen's words, in a diary of sorts, going back decades, her handwriting slowly morphing into the curves Grace had come to know so well as the years went on. All she could process was a string of names as she flipped through the pages, some she knew, most she didn't. Scott and Wendy and Sylvia. Ian and Elizabeth. Sophie, so much of Sophie. Sylvia again, nestled in between mentions of Jordan. Stanley.

And finally, Grace.

All this time, she wanted to know what happened to place Karen Walker in a Village dive on the same night she needed to get away from Danny. She wanted to know what happened so that she wouldn't repeat anyone else's mistakes. And now that she had this diary in her hands, she realized she was getting her wish, a history lesson that was a few moments too late. This was her girl's story, one that she didn't know much of, but, from what she could piece together, one that was mostly filled with secondary characters that only brought her pain. Grace wanted to be different. But she knew now that she was just another name, another piece of the dark haired woman's history that let her down. Just like everyone else. It wasn't as though she tried to be like them. It was that she tried so hard to be the opposite, to keep Karen close, to hold on even when she couldn't understand what was going on in Karen's head, even when Karen said it was okay that she didn't. But she made a mess of it; looking at the diary now, it was almost as if she was destined to screw it up. All because she couldn't tell Will the truth.

She thought of all the opportunities she had to say something. After she first met Karen, in a confused and excited late night phone call. After _he_ first met Karen and was wondering how Grace could ever hire someone like her. After the first cabin trip. After any cabin trip. After he tried to fix her up with their old classmate. When he came home from Connecticut early. Any one of those moments could have been the right moment, and she couldn't do it. But she could wait until Will had fallen asleep, until he left the state. She could sneak around with a smile on her face. She could make her love feel horrible for confiding in Jack about their relationship. She could make the relationship all about the secret. That was no trouble at all.

 _Karen was right to leave_ , her mind chanted to fill up the silence. And she had to agree; she didn't deserve a goodbye.

Grace didn't know how to handle the gift she had been given; she didn't know how to handle much of anything. But she knew she needed to make some changes. She knew she needed to do what she always meant to do. And she knew she needed to start with her best friend.

"Morning." She heard Will coming up behind her, but she made no move to acknowledge him. She kept her eyes trained on the diary as his footsteps came closer, as she saw him move to the kitchen out of the corner of her eye, as she heard his fleetingly annoyed "No coffee?" and the clamor that came with him making a fresh pot. She could feel his eyes on her as he waited for the coffee to brew, letting the silence build up for a moment before his questions started to cut through it.

"New sketches?" he asked, pointing at the diary from his perch in the kitchen.

"No. It's not mine," she said flatly. "It's Karen's diary."

Will furrowed his brow. "It is? Why do you have Karen's diary?"

Here you go, Grace. Now or never.

She took a breath before she spoke. "She left it on my nightstand before she sneaked out last night." She looked up to meet Will's gaze, saw the confused look on his face, and continued before he could put a voice to it. "Okay, look. I need to tell you a few things, and I need you to swear that you won't say anything until I tell you to."

"Sure."

"I mean it, Will. I don't even want a hint of what's going on in your head until I've said my piece. All of this is hard enough as it is. I don't need your questions or your judgment while I'm trying to do this."

Will looked taken aback for a second, but he didn't want to push her when she was clearly already on edge. "Grace, I swear. I won't say anything. Just tell me."

The redhead took a breath. "Karen slept here last night. She slept here the entire time you were in Connecticut. I've spent the night at her place. Every time I told you I was working over the weekend, I was really with her, in her cabin in Vermont. We've been sneaking around since I left Danny, but if I'm being honest...I was gone the second I met her. Which was before I hired her. And it's also why I hired her. God, I know that sounds bad." It was incredible, how fast the words were spilling from her lips; once she started, she found it hard to stop. "And I know you're not fond of her, and I know you probably think I'm crazy, but we had a really good thing going until I screwed it up. She made me happy. And now she's gone. So it's not like you'll have to get used to the idea of us being together or anything, but it happened. And you should know that it did." She sat there for a moment, letting her words float, wondering where they would land. She looked at Will and she couldn't read him. She waited for him to speak until she couldn't take the silence anymore. "Will, please say something."

Will took a moment to pour a cup of coffee for each of them before making his way to the dining table. He slid a mug in front of Grace as he sat down. "So when you told me you weren't seeing anyone…"

"I lied. I didn't mean to. It's just...I had this all planned out, I knew exactly what I wanted to say, and then you come home early and it's all thrown out the window. And I know, I know it's not your fault. It's mine. But she was in my room when it happened. She heard the whole thing. Jack figured it out a long time ago, but I just couldn't tell you yet. That's why she left. Well…that and this," she said as she placed a hand on the diary. "She wrote about everyone who eventually broke her heart. I guess I'm next."

"She was protecting herself. I get it. She left before you could."

He said it so casually, she couldn't believe it. She narrowed her eyes as she took a sip of her coffee. "I thought you'd be yelling at me by now. I've been waiting for your voice to jump, like, three octaves."

Will offered up the smallest hint of a smile. "You know, one of my favorite things about you, Gracie, is that you're a terrible liar." He watched her for a moment as she tried to form a response and stopped her before she could. "God, I knew it. I _knew_ something was going on with you. All the late nights. Taking off for days at a time with no warning. I just figured you would tell me about the guy you're seeing once you knew it was going somewhere. But Karen? How the hell did that happen?"

His question made Grace lose herself in the memory for a moment. The woman in Chanel sitting alone in that dive. The beer, the whiskey, the closeness. Will didn't know the Karen that she met that night. He wouldn't believe her story. Hell, _she_ wouldn't have believed it if it wasn't her story. But there was no sense in holding back now. "I met her in this bar in the Village during a rough patch with Danny. She stuck out like a sore thumb, and I was drawn to that. We were just talking, that's it, but I felt so at ease with her. We stuck around until last call, and I didn't think I'd see her again after that. Then one day, she shows up at the office asking if I still needed an assistant." She shrugged. "I knew she wasn't the best pick, but I had to hire her."

"So you did it because you were attracted to her?"

"I did it because I didn't want to lose her again." She could see him soften under her adamance. He was getting it, she could tell. He was beginning to understand. "I wasn't expecting anything to happen. I just wanted to be around her."

Will studied his best friend for a moment. He saw how distraught she was that Karen left, he saw the overwhelming nerves that came with telling the truth. And he knew that no matter what he thought about it, it was serious. "Grace," he said softly, "if she's this important to you, why didn't you tell me?" He reached out to her, sliding his hand over hers.

"Because it's Karen! Come on! It's not like I forgot the way you trashed her after you met her."

"Well, yeah, because she's a bad assistant! She's not a bad person!"

Grace sat in wide-eyed surprise for a moment. "She's not?"

"What, you think she is?"

"Of course not! It's just...when did you suddenly become her best friend?"

Will sighed. "Look. I know she and I haven't always gotten along. But when she came to me about a divorce, I saw a different side to her. She seemed...I don't know, affected by someone. There's no way she would have come to me if she wasn't. I just didn't realize you were the someone." He shook his head. "And I can't believe Jack figured it out before I did. I mean, I live with you, for god's sake."

Grace offered up a little smile. "You're losing your touch," she teased, before she turned serious. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was just so afraid of what you would say. I knew I wouldn't be able to show you how much she means to me, at least not in the right way. And I kept thinking about what had happened when I told you about the boyfriends you didn't like, and I just couldn't face the thought of that happening with Karen."

Will met her gaze; he wanted to make sure her eyes were locked on his. "Grace...this is weird. There's no getting around that. But I'll get used to it, as long as it's what you want. I shouldn't be the reason you give up. I just want you to be with someone who makes you happy. So, it happens to be Karen. It could be worse. At least it's not Danny."

"God, that's such a low bar," Grace groaned. Will's laugh started to warm her. "Anyway, it _was_ Karen. There's nothing to get used to anymore."

"That's not true. Do you love her?"

"Will, everything's such a mess, what does it…"

"Do you love her?" he pressed again.

It seemed like such a simple question when he said it. And it had such a simple answer. But it was an answer that, until now, only Karen had heard. Because only Karen mattered. If she said it now, it would make everything real just as it was ending. But at least it would be real. "Yeah," she said. "I really do. But it doesn't matter anyway. She left."

"Well, that's no reason to stop trying." He saw the gears turning in her head, trying to make sense of it, and continued. "Look, it's not like I have any idea what's going on in Karen's mind right now, but if I had to hazard a guess...she didn't leave because she wanted to end things. She left because she loves you. She probably thought that you were too afraid to let go of the secret, that eventually, it would make you give up. And she wouldn't be able to take you being the one to leave."

She couldn't believe how logical it was. It was like she had kept Will in the loop all along, thinking out loud about the pieces of Karen, of the past, that she was privy to. How was it that he was able to come to a conclusion like this in minutes, when she had lived with this for months and still couldn't see all the reasons? Now, her mind was flashing back to the times Karen acted like she expected Grace to leave, to get distant, to get scared, to feel whatever it was that would make the redhead tap out. Everyone before Grace had left. Karen was simply going by her experiences; she couldn't be blamed for that.

If Will was right, it meant that Grace still had a chance. But it didn't mean that Grace was optimistic.

"What if I find her, and it ends?" she asked warily.

"Then at least you'll have closure." Well. She couldn't argue with that. "Sweetie, after everything, don't you think you deserve to know what happens next?"

Grace stared at him for a moment before she sighed. "Just so you know, I hate it when you're right."

Will let the slightest hint of a told-you-so smile escape before he asked, "So where did she go?" He was so earnest in his question, Grace would have smiled if her world wasn't steadily crumbling around her.

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," she murmured. But come on, Grace. That isn't true; you know it's not. What did she tell you the first time she took you away, when you left Danny at the last minute and didn't have the strength to face the rest of the world? She wouldn't still be in Manhattan. But so much of who they are (who they were?) together lived in that space; could it really still be her solace?

She wasn't sure. But she had to try.

"The cabin," Grace said suddenly, shooting up from her seat. "The whole reason she kept it was to get away from the city." She ran to her bedroom and threw together an overnight bag. _Just in case_ , she caught herself thinking. She had to let the hopeful side of her win out over the cynical side. Otherwise, she wouldn't have the guts to do this.

"You're leaving _now_?" Will asked as Grace bolted out of her room.

"It's a long drive."

"How exactly are you getting to Vermont?"

"I'll figure something out," she shrugged as she raced to grab her coat and throw it around her body. She reached for her purse before rushing back to the dining table for the diary.

"Gracie?" Will asked, watching dart from one end of the apartment to another.

The redhead finally stopped and turned to face him, halfway out the front door. "What?"

Will grabbed a set of keys from the coffee table and tossed them to her. "I've still got the rental car for a couple days," he said as the keys crashed against Grace's palm.

Grace stood there for a moment, stunned. All of this time psyching herself up for her moment of truth with her best friend, for something she had been absolutely dreading, she never really entertained the possibility that he would be this supportive. She knew that the newness of it all, the Karen of it all, had to be a lot for him. But underneath it all, he wanted her to be happy; deep down, she always knew this, but for him to prove it to her in this moment meant everything. She ran to wrap her arms around him and held on with everything she had, trying to keep her tears from reaching the surface. "Thank you," she whispered.

He tightened his hold for a moment and kissed her cheek. "I love you," he said softly. "Go bring her home."

Will seemed so certain that it would end well, that she almost started to believe it, too.

She drove in silence towards the cabin, the snow falling and the diary resting in the passenger seat and the overwhelming desire to finally accept this invitation into Karen's world making the trip seem infinite. She pulled over when her curiosity won out, reading until her heart needed a break. She got back on the road, her thoughts crowded by Wendy and Sylvia, by Ian and Elizabeth, by Sophie, by her own recollection of her days with Karen and whether or not they played out like the days she just read about. She pulled into the cabin's driveway and read about Jordan (god, she hated Jordan). She read about Sylvia's return. She read about Stan.

Then she got to the pages that were about her.

Grace paused for a moment, thinking that she could stop here, that the past was enough. But she was too curious. It was one thing to paint your experiences with someone in a certain color; it was quite another to know that they painted them in the same shade. She turned the page and started to relive their entire story through Karen's words. Each entry brought the most vivid memories back to her. The night they met: _"I know I'm never going to see her again. Maybe that's why I can't get her smile out of my mind; it knows that I need that boost...the girl with the wildfire curls."_ The day she walked into Grace Adler Designs: _"I can't believe it's really her. I can't believe I found her."_ The night of Stan's party, when Grace couldn't help but kiss her, when she was still pretending with Danny: _"Of course I let it go this far. Inviting her, getting her alone. It was selfish. I can still feel her lips against my skin. I can't recover from this. And I'm not sure I want to."_ And when she made it to the heart of their relationship, she wanted to cry.

" _She's only a few feet away, in the other room getting us some more wine. The distance that was between us, the time that it took for me to get here, they don't seem to matter anymore. Because she's only a few feet away."_

" _She makes me feel weightless, like the load I have been carrying all my life has been lifted. She makes me forget about the things that brought me here. And it took me until now to realize how nice that is."_

" _I love her. It can't get much simpler than that."_

All of these words, filled with all of this love, painted a picture that Grace wanted to believe in. One of no troubles, no obstacles. One where everything was so easy. She wanted to live in these pages, feel that feeling forever. She studied the entries, one by one, each page boosting her spirits, her hope that this could all work out. She felt good about the odds. Until she got to the end of the diary. Until she hit the last few days. Until she read the closing entry.

" _It's been so hard, trying to hide everything, wearing this disguise. When I was a little girl, before the whirlwind Lois dragged me into, I would play dress-up. I'd be someone new every day, and when I got tired of the persona I took on, I could be someone else. Just like that. But the difference between make-believe as a child and make-believe now is that when I was a child, it was fun. Now, it kills me. But I kept it up, for her. I just can't do it anymore."_ Written the day before their fight in the office, before Grace begged her to stay the night, before Karen made her choice.

Grace laid the diary back on the passenger seat and rested her head against the steering wheel. She watched her tears fall from her cheek to her lap. This was all her fault, she knew. She drove Karen away. What was she expecting to happen here? A tearful reunion, a happy ending? Everything swept under the rug and forgotten about? Grace was supposed to be the one who was different, but she ended up like all the others. She couldn't believe she let Will talk her into doing this. There was no way Karen wanted to see her now. She had no right to be here.

Before she could spiral too far, a knock on the car window pulled her out of her own head.

"Come on, Grace. Your headlights are shining into my windows."

The redhead whipped her head up to see Karen trying to peek into the car. She froze for a moment, unable to believe what she was seeing. When she pulled up to the cabin, the lights were on; she knew Karen was in there. But to see her now...she was so relieved to see her now. The car windows were fogging up; the dark haired woman was a blurred vision. Grace moved to roll down the window, felt her heart jump when she got a clear look at her.

"Karen," she said, flustered, her voice catching on her love's name. She suddenly felt like this was a mistake, like she was invading Karen's privacy. "I'm sorry. I can go. I...I should go."

"Now, wait a minute. Hold on. You came all this way," she said, her frosty breath wrapping around her words. Grace could see that she had the smallest smile on her lips, in spite of herself. And then she heard the words that slowly started to repair the foundation of her hope.

"Just come inside. Please."


	27. I Didn't

" _ **Someone broke your heart, I didn't  
**_ _ **Someone played too hard, I didn't  
**_ _ **Someone stole your dreams, I didn't  
**_ _ **Someone got there a long time before me"  
**_ _ **-Amy Ray, "I Didn't"**_

 _1999_

Being here felt strange now, like she was intruding on someone else's space. But when she thought about it, that's what she had done all along. She never asked to be brought here; Karen simply saw her need to get away from the city, from anything that even vaguely reminded her of Danny and the way she ended things, and let her in on a brilliant secret. Grace followed Karen inside the cabin like it was the first time, looked around the place like it was the first time. She had to think of it like this, like it was all new to her. If she started to remember things-the way Karen would absently trace circles on her thigh while they sat by the fire, the way Karen's perfume always reached her nose before the fresh coffee did first thing in the morning, the way Karen's blouse would ride up the slightest bit whenever she tried to reach something on a high shelf and the way she would lean into Grace's touch whenever the redhead would slip her arms around her exposed waist-it would make it too hard to walk away if they reach the end.

It was already too hard to be here, shrouded in the possibility of the end.

Any other time, Grace would have dropped her bags and started a fire while Karen broke open a bottle of wine. But as she looked around, she saw an empty bottle on the coffee table and the fireplace glowing, and wondered if Karen had been sitting there the whole time she was in the driveway, waiting for her to come in. She realized how foolish it sounded in her head, expecting Karen to wait for her like it was a game, and it was Grace's turn to make a move. And even though it was the redhead's turn to make a move, she was painfully aware that this was no game. The dark haired woman had been here most of the day, anyway. That bottle had probably been emptied long before the sun went down. It _was_ Karen, after all.

"Here," Karen said, bringing her back into the moment. Grace took the glass of Cabernet the dark haired woman poured from a new bottle and held out for her. She started pacing around the room, trying to find her place and coming up empty while she watched Karen stoke the fire. She couldn't believe how calm Karen seemed to be. Grace had to work to focus during the entire drive up here, but if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn she just walked in on Karen's relaxing winter getaway. But then again, the dark haired woman seemed so calm the first time they came here, when the redhead felt like her world had been overturned; it just took a little while for Karen to take off the mask.

Grace had that same feeling again, like her world had been overturned. Her grip wasn't as strong as it was last time, but she still tried to hold on to the hope that it would turn out the same way.

The floorboards creaked under her feet as she moved back and forth, and she heard Karen sigh. "Gracie, for god's sake, sit down," she said, her back still turned to the redhead. "You're making me anxious."

"Sorry," Grace mumbled as she took a seat on the couch. She called her Gracie. It was so familiar, it had to count for something. Or maybe it was a slip of the tongue, old habit. She tried to shake it off and focus. The silence was too much, she had to say something. "I was serious, by the way. I can go if you want to be alone. I just...you were gone, and this was the only thing I could think of to do."

"How did you know you'd find me here?" Grace noticed how she didn't tell her to leave. It meant everything.

"I listen when you talk," she murmured softly. Karen turned to face her, and she couldn't tell if the dark haired woman had heard her. She took a sip of wine and continued as Karen joined her on the couch. "When you brought me up here the first time, after the whole Danny thing...you just knew exactly what I needed, I couldn't believe it. And then you told me how this was your getaway when everything got to be too much." She had her eyes trained on her wine glass. "I didn't know if, after everything, this would still be the place you turn to, but I had to try."

Karen was glad she did. But her uncertainty in navigating the situation kept her from saying it. She thought she had passed the point of no return when she walked out of the apartment, she had pushed her further and further away every time she willed herself to walk past the phone without dialing. But Grace was here. Grace found her. There was hope. What she wanted to do was forget that she ever ran in the first place, throw herself into the redhead's arms and move on to their next adventure, hand in hand. What she did was study Grace studying her wine for a moment, trying to come up with neutral conversation. "So, you just decided to rent a car for a quick jaunt to Vermont?" she asked, trying on a lighter tone and hearing how dissonant it sounded against the weight of the night.

"Actually, Will let me borrow his."

The dark haired woman scoffed as a reflex. "Yeah? What did you have to tell him to make that happen?" she asked as she took a sip of her wine, not quite understanding the joke.

Grace shrugged. "The truth."

Karen froze with her glass to her lips. Grace was bluffing; she had to be. The conversation she overheard between Will and Grace, their fight in the office, the feeling in the pit of Karen's stomach. It all led to the same conclusion: the redhead was hell bent on keeping the secret. Because if she wasn't, if she was going to follow through like she said, then what the hell was Karen running from? "You didn't," she whispered, not at all surprised that she couldn't find her voice.

"Karen, I told you I would. Last night, I told you what I was going to say. Granted, it didn't go down the way I thought it would, but still…"

She did it. She actually did it. Everyone knew, and the world didn't end. Karen should have felt the weight being lifted by now. She should have felt relief. Instead, she couldn't help thinking that none of it-Grace telling Will, the chance to finally be open-mattered, because she didn't stick around to see it happen. There was no good reason to doubt Grace's word; she just had the decades of history that burned her hope to ashes. And in spite of it all, there was Grace, brushing those ashes to the side so that something new, something better, could grow; she wondered if the redhead realized it was an exercise in futility. "How did he take it?" she finally asked.

"I think he's still processing it. But he seemed okay. I think he was more upset about Jack figuring it out before he did." Grace heard Karen's soft laugh and couldn't help but smile.

"Sounds like Wilma," the dark haired woman sighed.

"Anyway, I think he realized how real this is." Grace couldn't say "was." She couldn't keep going like this if she had it in her head that it was already over. She waited for a moment, to see if Karen would correct her.

Instead, the dark haired woman murmured, "Well, I'm glad he didn't hold it against you."

"Yeah." It was crazy how quickly they fell back into silence, like they had just met and were struggling to make conversation. It didn't even feel this way when they _did_ meet for the first time. It made Grace nervous, it made her restless. It made her feel like she was about to jump out of her skin, and she couldn't believe the day had come when she felt this way around Karen. "And just so you know," she said, hoping to break the hold this strange quiet had on them with the first thing that sprang to her mind, "I told Will because I wanted to. Not because of the diary."

The diary. Karen knew it would come around to that sooner or later. A small part of her wasn't entirely sure if Grace would read it; after all, it was just one long excuse for why they didn't wake up together this morning. But as quickly as she thought it, she shook it away; she knew that Grace had read every word. Because Grace always wanted to understand. "Gracie, I...I'm sorry I left the way I did. I just knew I'd lose my nerve if I waited until morning. And even if I did wait, I knew I wouldn't be able to explain it to you. It was better to let the diary do it for me."

"No, I get it. I do. You left before I could." Will said it so perfectly this morning, Grace didn't think he would mind it if she stole his words. "But, Karen, I was never planning to leave."

"Well, I know that _now_. But good lord, Grace, you read everything. That's all I've known. There's got to be a point where I spare myself." The dark haired woman's eyes locked on the redhead's before she shook her head. "Besides, you can't promise me that, somewhere down the road, you won't change your mind. I don't think I could take that from you if you did."

"Alright, so I can't promise it. But I'd like to think that I've proven myself to be a little more honest than Jordan or Sylvia. Or Stan, at first. I'd like to think that I'm different. You once told me I was."

"But that's the thing, isn't it? Every single one of them was different, until they weren't."

Grace closed her eyes as she drained the last of her wine. She knew Karen was right, and she hated that. Not because she had to prove that she meant to be here forever to a woman who didn't believe in it. Sooner or later, she could find the words, she could find a way to act on her intentions in the hopes that she could get Karen to see past today. She hated that Karen was right because she hated them, the ones who did nothing but add another chapter of pain to the dark haired woman's history. She hated Elizabeth for leaving without a trace. She hated Jordan for not caring. She hated Sylvia for lying, for trying to pull Karen into her double life. She hated Stan, first for hiding the fact that he was married, then once they finally found the right path, for doing nothing but watch as their marriage slipped away. But, most of all, she hated whatever powers were at work in the universe, for taking away Sophie's promise to stay, for the possibility of taking away her own just as swiftly. She tried not to be like the ones who got to choose their fate, before she even knew what it meant to be like them. The thought that she was even remotely on a similar path as the others made her feel so defeated.

"I know," she said softly while Karen filled her glass. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how anybody could do that to you."

The dark haired woman shrugged. "That's life," she said simply. "I told you the first time we came here that you shouldn't want this. My life has been one long road that never leads to anywhere good. Just a bunch of wrong turns."

"But they weren't my turns."

No. They weren't Grace's turns. And Karen knew it wasn't fair of her, acting like they were. She was just so used to living with the ghosts of her past, to placing her trust in the wrong hands, it was easy to assume the worst. Letting the past dictate the present seemed natural. And she hated that she went with it, all because it was easy. All day, she had been wrestling with her mistake, knowing she shouldn't have lumped Grace in with the others, knowing she probably should have stuck around to see if Grace kept her word. Karen wanted to tell her all of these things. But when she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was gone. Instead, she placed her hand gently over Grace's, waiting to see if the redhead would flinch, if she would slide out of Karen's touch, if she would make herself out of reach. Grace didn't move. And Karen tried to etch it into her memory-how soft her skin felt, the warmth of her hand, the way she could swear Grace was trying to lace their fingers together-in case it was the last time.

"It's not like you're the only one putting yourself out there, you know." Grace said it so quietly, it sounded like it was still living in her mind. She hoped to god it didn't sound harsh; she wasn't trying to be mean, and she wasn't trying to bring all the attention to herself. All she wanted was to show Karen the even playing field they were standing on. "You're so convinced that one day, I'm going to change my mind," she murmured. "But you could, too. Somewhere down the line, you could look at all of this and think that you're wasting your time."

Karen furrowed her brow. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Why would I? It's not like I'm Jordan. It's not like I'm Stan. I'm not..."

"Gracie, don't say that about Stan."

"Why not?"

"Because Stan didn't want to sign the divorce papers, but he's going to. He knew I wanted him to."

Grace froze, wide-eyed and stunned. For a moment, she could have sworn she misheard Karen, that it was all a trick of the mind. "What?!"

The dark haired woman nodded. "I found him in his office before I left New York. He found the papers, and he just looked so sad about it. I don't think he fully realized how bad it got." Was it her imagination, or did Grace inch closer to her? "I don't really blame him, though. I didn't notice, either, until it was too late." She felt Grace's fingers start to wrap around hers and give a little squeeze. "He owned it. No one's ever done that. He turned, just like the others, but then he kept turning until he ended up where he started...someone who cared if I was happy."

All this time, the redhead had built Stanley Walker up in her mind to be this terrible person who stopped caring once his ring was on Karen's finger. She never asked; she always assumed. It seemed like a safe bet, anyway. With everything else that Karen only told her in pieces, it wouldn't have been out of the ordinary. But to hear that he acknowledged his part was something that Grace never prepared for. And she didn't know how to respond.

"Did you tell him about us?" she asked after a moment, knowing she had to say something.

"I didn't have to. God, it's just like him to figure it out and keep it to himself. Maybe he thought he could live with it. I don't know. But I think he realized that you make me happy. I probably wouldn't have tried to end things if you didn't make me see that I could be happy."

The look in Grace's eyes at that moment...the way that tiny sliver of hope broke through made Karen want to cry. "I make you happy?" the redhead said softly.

Karen couldn't help it. She moved in closer, her thigh brushed up against Grace's thigh. She closed her eyes and took it in before she spoke. "Of course you do. Grace, I didn't leave because I stopped loving you. I left because I never could. I was so convinced that you would get bored, or you would be so concerned about keeping this a secret that it took all the good things away. But seeing Stan before I left...I keep putting the weight of the past on everyone I touch, and it wasn't fair to him. It isn't fair to you." She took a breath. "I know I need to make some changes. I know I need to be more open to risks. It's not something that's just going to come to me overnight. But I want to try. You make me want to try."

Grace's lips started to curl into a smile. "Then let's try."

For a moment, Karen was surprised it could be that easy. But like so many other moments over the last few months, she knew that this was Grace's way: uncomplicated, to the point, shining a light on the best path and holding out her hand for the dark haired woman to take. "Really?" she asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it in Grace's voice one more time.

"Let's try," she said again. "I know I can't promise you tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or next year. But I can promise you today. I can promise you that I'm going to try today. I'm going to be open with you today. I'm going to walk down this road with you today. I'm going to love you today. And I will go to sleep with every intention of doing it all over again tomorrow." She set her glass on the coffee table and let her free hand caress Karen's cheek. "Jack knows. Will knows. Stan knows. What do we have to hold us back now?"

It was incredible, the way the chains that bound Karen to her past started to rust and fall apart. With every one of Grace's promises, with every name the redhead named to dissolve their secret, she saw the light start to shine through. She thought of the possibilities that lay ahead. And she was starting to feel safe in the thought of them. Karen knew that she would never be rid of the past. But in spite of everything she had been through-in spite of the moves from town to town, the loss, the indifference-she wasn't sure she wanted to be rid of it, not completely. It was the past that led her to Grace. But she would not let the past keep her from being with Grace.

She grinned as she murmured, "The look that's going to be on Will's face when we're in the same room together…"

"Oh, come on," Grace answered slyly. "I would think you'd consider that a bonus."

"Well...you're not wrong." Karen reached for the hand that was still lingering against her cheek and brought it to her lips. "I love you, Grace," she whispered.

The way Grace looked into her eyes like she discovered something new and exciting every single time. The way her fingers crawled up her spine, leaving a trail of fireworks in their wake. The way her kiss felt like a homecoming. Karen took every little thing in and couldn't believe she came so close to losing it. She felt Grace pull her down with her, sprawled along the length of the couch. She saw the way the redhead's face glowed in anticipation below her and plunged her lips into the curve of her neck, smiling into Grace's skin when she heard her sigh to the touch. This was how it was always supposed to be.

"You know," she started as she pulled away, nearly losing her train of thought as she felt Grace's fingers through her hair, "we could stay here for a few days. Have some time to ourselves, catch our breath. We could go back to New York completely refreshed. I'd have to call in sick to work, but I think I can get past my boss," she winked.

Grace's laugh filled the room as she studied Karen hovering above her like a vision. "That sounds perfect. Except for the fact that I'm heading back to New York tomorrow."

Karen's face fell and her heart sank. No. They had just gotten back on track. All this time Grace took to get here, everything they went through to get to this point, and she'd rather go home than take solace in this unexpected getaway? "What? Why?"

"Kare, I have to. Will's got to give back the rental car _sometime_." She smirked as she saw the relief that washed over the dark haired woman's face. "Will you come home with me?" she asked, feeling her heart leap to her throat as she formed the words. The question shouldn't make her this nervous. Why was she so nervous?

For a moment, they lay there, frozen, as though the question were an impossible one. Grace started to brace herself for the let down. But then, she saw Karen smile and lean in closer. She felt Karen's fingers through her curls as their lips met, melting her nerves away. She wrapped herself around Karen's body as it relaxed. She heard Karen's "Mmmm" as she let her lips explore every inch she possibly could. She felt Karen's gentle touch as one by one, the buttons of her blouse came undone. She heard the way her name curled around Karen's whisper every time it came close to her ear.

And she knew she had her answer.


	28. Epilogue: Song for the Road

" _ **Now, I don't like to use words like 'Forever'  
**_ _ **But I will love you 'til the end of today  
**_ _ **And in the morning, when I remember everything that you are  
**_ _ **Well, I know I'll fall for you over again  
**_ _ **Now, I know someday, this all will be over  
**_ _ **And it's hard to say what most will I miss  
**_ _ **Just give me one way to spend my last moments alive  
**_ _ **And I choose this, I choose this, I choose this"  
**_ _ **-David Ford, "Song for the Road"**_

 _1999: Age 40_

 _From the diary of Karen Walker: "This time last month, I didn't think I'd be here with her. For all I knew, she'd cut her losses and leave me hiding from the mess of Manhattan, promising myself a game plan that never materializes. The memories would start to suffocate me until I had to get out. And once I'd finally make my return, her attention would be on someone new, while I come home to the debris of yet another failed attempt, starting over once more with absolutely no feeling. I hate to think about what the future would have held if she hadn't acted on her instincts and found me. But she did. Her light quite literally shined through. She didn't let go. She kept her promises. And she took me home._

" _She surprised me. She always does._

" _It's funny how you still need to get used to something you've always wanted. After we came back from the cabin, I'd wait around for Will to go to bed before coming over, and Grace would call me up to ask where I was. I'd make a move to take my heels off before tiptoeing to the bedroom, and she'd smile and remind me that I didn't need to do that anymore. I'd wake up next to her morning after morning, and it would still hold all the wonder and overwhelming beauty that it did the first time. I'd want to be alone with her, and we wouldn't have to steal away to the swatch room, or to a remote cabin in Vermont, because we wouldn't have to worry about getting caught. It's a whole new world; it made me wonder whether we would even need to steal away again._

" _Then a few days ago, she kissed me awake and told me she was going to whisk me away for a celebration. She knows I never make a big deal out of my birthday; acknowledging another year of emotional baggage added onto the weight I already had to carry never appealed to me. But she was insistent, and I just can't say no when she gets that spark in her eyes. Besides, the weight feels lighter and lighter each day. She refused to tell me what she had planned, but I knew we were headed to our cabin. I knew we would dive into the routines that have become second nature. I knew she would order takeout at night and set out Bailey's with the coffee creamer in the morning. I knew she would say she wanted to see Winter and suggest a walk to take in the nature surrounding us before rushing to get back inside ten minutes later to avoid the cold. I knew she would take my hand and give me a sly smile and lead me to the bedroom. And I could think of no better way to start another turn around the sun._

" _But the best present of all was that we told Will and Jack exactly what we were planning to do._

" _I can still remember the look on Will's face when Grace and I came back to New York, that smile that couldn't hide his struggle with the newness of it all, but also couldn't hide his effort to be okay. It was such a contrast to Jack's overflowing enthusiasm. But as the days went by, the struggle started to fade. He seemed more comfortable with me being around, he seemed to get used to it whenever she took my hand, whenever she rested her head on my shoulder. He no longer thinks twice about Grace taking me to her room for the night. Or, at the very least, he makes it seem like he doesn't. By the time Grace announced our getaway, he was able to genuinely wish us well, and he made sure I looked him in the eye long enough to realize that he meant it._

" _Maybe one of these days, I can tell him that as much as he's getting used to this, I'm getting used to it, too. I adapted to the shadows because I knew that adapting would allow me to be with her. And now, I don't need the shadows to be with her. It's still a little strange, the weightlessness that comes with being out in the open. It's strange to no longer have to sneak around. It's exhilarating, of course. But I'm still learning. Just like he is._

" _Today, she insisted on driving, because it had been her idea; she didn't want me to lift a finger on my birthday. In the car, she had a copy of_ Vogue _for the road waiting in my seat, but once we were on our way, I couldn't stop stealing glances of her, with her eyes on the road as she hummed along to the radio until it turned to static. In that moment, I felt as though we could be headed anywhere, and we would be okay no matter where we ended up. The fact that we ended up in a place that felt like home was merely a bonus._

" _When we got to the cabin, she told me that if I needed to rest, I could; by the time I woke up, she would have everything ready for the festivities to begin. It was no use telling her the drive didn't exhaust me this time; that crafty look in her eye and that sly smile across her lips let me know that I wouldn't be able to fight her. But it was such a good look on her, I couldn't fight her, even if I wanted to. I figured I could last an hour before curiosity won out. But I closed my eyes in spite of myself, and by the time I woke up, the sun had set. And once I made my way downstairs, I saw her beaming, and I saw what she had in store for me._

" _A glowing fire. A bottle of wine. Takeout from our favorite place waiting for us. The music she'd picked for us while we played house on Riverside Drive, swiftly lifted from the apartment without Will's knowledge. And a brand new, leather-bound journal resting on the dining table between two candles, filled with crisp pages waiting for new chapters. 'You deserve a fresh start,' she said, murmuring in my ear before she pressed her lips to my cheek. When I opened it up, I found her handwriting on the first page:_ I love you today. _She had pressed down on the pen hard enough to leave the indentation of her words on the next page, and the next. No matter what I decided to fill this journal with, those words would be there, a gentle reminder._

" _As if I could ever forget._

" _Tonight, as we enjoyed our evening in the calm of the woods, as we ate and drank and swayed to the music before floating up to bed, I looked around the cabin and noticed how much warmer it seemed, now that it no longer had to hold our secrets. It's crazy to think about, these walls feeling the same weight I had for all these months. But I can feel the relief in every room of this place. We've been here so many times before. We've slept in that bed, we've stoked that fire. We've danced across the living room floor and lingered in the kitchen. But now, it feels different. Because now, we can sleep and stoke and dance and linger together anywhere. We choose to be here because it's a change of scenery, not because it's necessary to the survival of our relationship. And that is the most exciting thing, too exciting to let me sleep._

" _Once I realized insomnia would win out, I looked over at her, curled up underneath the blankets, so peaceful in the night, and I was overwhelmed with the feeling that this is where I always should be. I wanted to be able to remember this for as long as I possibly could. So I tiptoed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. I tried to skip the step at the bottom that always creaked, so I wouldn't wake her up. I picked up this journal._

" _And I started to write._

" _This is my fresh start: the book of Grace. I choose this. I choose her. I will keep choosing her for as long as she keeps choosing me. For so long, I have spent all of my energy trying to focus on today, because I thought today had always been the only thing I could control. It was just that, with all of my energy focused on having control, there wasn't any left to realize that I actually had none. But that's what I love about her. She's starting to make me see that that kind of control isn't as necessary as I made it out to be. She's starting to make me see that risks can be rewarding. She's starting to make me look forward to tomorrow._

" _And if I'm being honest, tomorrow looks pretty good."_


End file.
